


Leather & Lace

by WashiEaglewings



Series: Washi's nuzlockes [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Nuzlocke Challenge, the alolan gaycation nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WashiEaglewings/pseuds/WashiEaglewings
Summary: All Sherri Frasier wanted was a relaxing vacation with her girlfriend. Alola has other plans.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm back! It took me a while to figure out which run I wanted to see through to completion, but I'm pretty confident in this one. This run picks up from (and therefore spoils) my previous storylocke, _Wonderwall._ You DO NOT have to read that story to enjoy this one, but it is recommended you do so ~~for maximum feels.~~

The train pulls into the Viridian station without fanfare or even a crowd waiting for its passengers. Only a long, high whistle announces their arrival, and it echoes through the drowsy city. Eight in the morning feels early in late November, when the sun is just starting to peek over the eastern horizon; today's fog is only more reason for the residents to snuggle deeper into their beds.

Three people step off onto the platform in varying states of waking. One skips onto the platform with a sunny smile, already pawing at her belt to release an equally cheery Cubone; the second shuffles away with small, sluggish steps, his hands clutching onto a crumpled paper map of the city he'd swiped in the Saffron station.

The third wishes she had listened to her girlfriend and worn her flats instead of her red Meowth heels, or brought a different bag. The stone is slick and she nearly falls face-first onto the platform, but catches herself on the railing. The heavy black backpack sways on her shoulders, skewing her center of gravity. If anyone asks—

"No one told you about Viridian winters, eh?" the attendant asks her, his smile large underneath his larger mustache. "Sure you'll be alright?"

"Thank you," she says, and readjusts her backpack. She would have been fine if she wasn't carrying this huge thing around, but it's important, and she's too proud to say anything other than, “But I think I'll manage.”

He chuckles, mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like "tourists," and waves her away from the train. "Next stop: Indigo Plateau!" he calls in a booming voice; it gets swallowed up by groaning wheels and the high whistle of the engine. It's a decent distraction from the weight on her back; she doesn't remember it being this heavy in Saffron. Then again, maybe she just isn't used to carrying things like this, period. Which she isn't. But she'll learn.

The station spits her out and Viridian swallows her up, quiet in the hazy morning light. She's used to seeing the city on TV as _the_ hub of celebration for Pokemon League festivities—tickets to the stadiums and hotels in the Indigo Plateau are expensive, so many people flock to the Gateway City for the second best thing. But now, with the ceremonies concluded and a new victor crowned, the city has returned to its normal sleepy state. There are still flyers wrapped around telephone poles and street lamps, advertising Poke Mart specials and promoting local favorites to win. This year's winner, a rough-and-tumble blonde who had swept Bruno with a particularly fierce Gyarados, features prominently in them; she's surprised they haven't been stripped clean yet, to be saved and sold as collector's items.

Sherri isn't nearly as interested in these as she is the signposts pointing the way to the Viridian Gym. Someone has salted the streets, so she doesn't fall over again; even if she had, there wouldn't be many people around to see her. It's a nice change from the hustle-and-bustle of Saffron, a city where she could hardly glance over at a window display without tripping over something. Normally she would let her feet guide her down the gently-sloping streets, maybe even take a picture of herself against the gate leading to Route 22—but she's a girl on a mission today, and so she keeps to the path, stopping only once to grab an extra-strong coffee from a sly-eyed barista.

By this point snow has begun to fall, melting before it even hits the ground. Sherri closes her eyes and sticks her tongue out, hoping for a big fat flake to fall on her tongue. There's silence for one beautiful moment, with her face being kissed by tiny flakes, and then a rush of wind.

Sherri opens her eyes just as the tawny blur passes, and smirks. She doesn't even take her glove off before sounding a piercing whistle that echoes into the sky. It takes a moment for the sound to register, but the giant Pokemon suddenly turns and dovetails straight toward her. The townspeople on the street don't even scatter, just watch with interest as the Fearow lands just a wing's-width away. No one's riding her.

"True doesn't know I'm in the city yet, right?"

The Fearow shakes her head.

Sherri grins. "Awesome. C'mere, Clara."

Clara's dark blue eyes shine as she pushes her long beak into Sherri's waiting hands. She clicks it merrily, teasing the curled ends of her hair and cooing softly. Sherri throws a smile at a curious man passing by, who tips his hat to her, before leaning down. "You wanna save me a walk?"

She only has a few flights under her belt, but Clara is a seasoned pro; the Fearow pokes and prods Sherri until she's sitting the right way, with her hands braced on the base of Clara's neck and her body low. Take off is almost a second thought—one moment they're on the ground and the next they are not, spraying pebbles and dust beneath them.

The flight to the gym doesn't take more than a few minutes, but it's fast enough for Sherri's face to go numb and her thighs to start wiggling. Viridian Gym, once a building tucked behind thick imposing trees, has been polished and repainted and landscaped to seem almost inviting. Red-pink flowers line the dirt path leading to the front door; she's heard trainers in Saffron marvel about them, and their resilience in the most extreme weather. Sherri bends down to stroke one of the dark green fronds, very aware of Clara lowering her head in respect behind her.

"The gym's not open this early, right?" Sherri asks, standing up and readjusting her backpack. "What're you going to do, sneak me in?"

The new gleam in Clara's eyes is answer enough. She leads the two of them to the back door and pokes it twice with her beak. The door opens immediately to a tall Exeggutor, who stares at them for about two seconds before every head brightens. "Sh—!"

"Shhhh. Hyde. Surprise, remember?"

"No it's okay!" The Exeggutor bounces on their feet as it moves back, allowing Clara and Sherri to step inside. The hallway lights have been turned on, revealing light gray tile and soothing green walls. "True and Casey went out to get groceries—"

"Hey, Hyde? Can you slow it down a bit, I can't catch everything you're saying."

"Oh." Hyde nods, takes a deep breath, and begins again. "True and Casey went out to take care of some last-minute stuff, they were gonna be back just before they went to pick you up from the station! Why're you here now?!"

"Payback," Sherri says simply. Clara snickers.

"Well you'll have to tell us—oh, your bag! Let me help!" Sherri has just enough time to lift her arms before the backpack slides off her. It hangs several feet away, suspended by bright green energy. "You probably had a long train—it was a train, right? I've never been on a train before, I keep telling True…"

Now that the heavy bag is off her back, Sherri feels better—or at least like she can walk confidently. Hyde leads the way, asking her questions about Saffron and her work and her friends.

"I think Preston's relieved to have some space to himself," Sherri says, as Hyde leads them up the staircase. She remembers when the upper floor had been used as a viewing balcony, with a glass wall all that separated the upper lobby from the battlefield. It's been replaced by a memento wall, with framed photos from True's previous battles dominating much of the space. She recognizes several key moments from televised battles, and even a few candid shots taken with a camera bought in Fuchsia: a Venusaur smiling, Hyde conversing merrily with a frowning Haunter, a Blastoise throwing a hard punch into the jaw of a Dragonite.

"Door's unlocked! They shouldn't be much longer."

She turns away from a silver-framed picture of a green-eyed Raichu to step inside the apartment. Very little has changed: the cream-colored walls are familiar, and the green trimmings—what was _with_ gym leaders color-coordinating everything to their badges?—are just as she remembered them. The beige couches have been moved to the side, no doubt to better accommodate True's larger team members. Someone's left the radio on to something jazzy, and a fire crackles in the fireplace. True had laughed about it when she'd first moved in, said something about it being safer than cuddling Jackson in the night. The living room was more than big enough for a fully-grown Charizard, but yeah, probably better than running the risk of burning the gym down.

Clara doesn't follow them inside, instead settling at the bottom of the stairs. Sherri carefully lays her heavy down coat over the nearest chair and her black gloves on top of her bag before flopping on the couch. Hyde sinks down beside her, their trunk turned toward her like they're a teenage girl about to drop some serious gossip. "I wish I was going with you guys. A whole month in… where is it you're going again?"

"Alola." She's had enough friends in her theatre group begging for details and souvenirs. "It's somewhere far, far south from here."

"True showed us a picture a few days ago," Hyde says. "She has a bunch of stuff planned, like—ooh, maybe I shouldn't say that. It's a surprise."

The whole trip had been a surprise. The region's professor, who was known best by the global community of researchers and trainers, had come to Kanto to participate in the Indigo Challenge. He'd been so impressed by what he'd seen that he gone to High Champion Peg Hartfield herself to request the Indigo League's help in establishing a league in Alola. She had no idea how True had been chosen to leave after the closing ceremonies were done, only that Viridian would be taken care of in her absence and that she could bring a plus-one.

Enter Sherri, who had decided to surprise her girlfriend with an early arrival before tomorrow's high-speed flight. She turns to Hyde with a grin, torn between wanting to dig for details—the Exeggutor is practically an open book—or wanting to be surprised. She errs for the latter, one eye on the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I don't cook as well as True but I make a mean cheese toast."

"Oooh, yes please!"

Fortunately there's just enough cheddar cheese for herself and Hyde; unfortunately there's no bread. Hyde quickly tells her that he's fine with just the cheese, which probably isn't the greatest breakfast, but she's certainly had worse. Sherri splits the block and offers half to Hyde, and nibbles on her half. There's a good five minutes of happy munching and mild back-and-forthing before Hyde suddenly falls silent, wicked grins stretching on all five of their faces. "They're heeeeere."

"How do you," she starts, before Hyde psychically opens the door a crack. Clara's welcoming warble is easy to hear, as is the gentle laugh that greets it. Any thoughts Sherri might have of going off to hide and jump-tackle her girlfriend evaporate as she hears the stairs to the balcony creak.

"…tell you I hate needles? I didn't sign up for shots."

"Joy was really nice, she only took—wait, I didn't leave the door open. Did I leave the door open?"

"We locked the back door, and Clara would've attacked anyone we didn't know. Hang on, I'll check."

A small yellow head pushes the door open. The Pikachu takes one look inside, sees her and Hyde sitting at the table, and chuckles. "Looks like we won't need to go out later."

The door opens fully. Sherri sees hands gripping two cloth bags fulled to bursting before she looks up at the woman holding them. "Casey, of course we—oh."

It's funny, but the first thing Sherri thinks is True's cut her hair. She's used to seeing it drop past her shoulders, not sway against her chin. It hasn't even been a week since the closing ceremonies, where True had stood with Casey and the Rhydon who had cemented herself as the gym's ground-type ace.

She must notice her staring, because her pale hand comes to tease the ends. "Uh… you like it? I thought it'd be nice since we're going somewhere warmer. Wouldn't have to mess with it so much."

And that's enough for Sherri to surge forward, her cheese forgotten, to wrap her arms around her and squeeze tightly. Three months, she thinks, as she breathes in winter air and dust. She has just enough time to see a green flash before True presses a firm kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I missed you," she whispers.

"Missed," Sherri answers back, reorienting their kiss so their mouths meet properly. "You too. I love the hair."

"Thought it'd fit," True says. "You still," kiss, "want to go?"

Her low groan surprises them. They laugh softly, the gentle breaths tumbling together against their mouths. Sherri pulls back just enough to look into True's eyes—kiss-bright, her favorite look—to say, "I would _much_ rather go traveling with you than spend another hour dealing with Mrs. Moronso."

She’s seen True smile plenty in public before, tight and… not _wrong_ \--perfectly fine with her usual company of gym challengers and League officials. But the ones she gives in private, when it’s just the two of them, are her favorite: they’re large and wild and appear without a second thought, without any hesitation. "I need to put these—oh, thanks Hyde," she says, and when Sherri turns around she finds True's bags sitting on the kitchen counter, Hyde watching them with gigantic grins on their faces. "Peg's staying here and I figured I should have some food for her. You weren't here long?"

They hold hands while True puts everything away—judging by the amount of chocolate True pulls out, High Champion Hartfield must have one hell of a sweet-tooth. "Just a few minutes. You didn't happen to buy any bread, did you?"

"We are not having cheese toast as one of our last meals before we go," True laughs.

"Well, no we aren't, Hyde and I ate your cheese."

"I was going to make macaroni with that. It's okay," she says, as Sherri's face falls, "we can just go out? There's a new restaurant that opened up that my mom's been pushing me to try—"

"Let's just stay in," Casey says from the floor, staring at the bandage wrapped tightly around his freckled arm. "There'll be enough time to eat out when we get to Alola."

"I still don't get why only Casey gets to go," Hyde whines.

"Alola's strict about allowing foreign Pokemon in," True says, like this has been an ongoing argument. There's no need to voice the greater truth: Casey is True's partner in more ways than one, and leaving him behind is unthinkable. Sherri tightens her grip on True's hand. "You're all going to have fun with Peg. Just make sure—"

"'You listen to Britt 'cause she's in charge,'" Hyde sighs.

True squeezes back before stepping away, gently cupping one of Hyde's faces in her hands. "We'll be back before you all know it. And I'm going to call from every city. And if you're good, I'll bring back presents."

"Prooomise?"

"Promise." True kisses their closest cheek gently, patting their large trunk. She turns to Casey and Sherri with a tired smile. "So. Eggs for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch… how's delivered pizza and a rented movie sound?"

Sherri smiles. "Perfect."

* * *

The plane doesn't rattle. It's eerily silent, rushing through the air at… well, she's not sure how fast planes go. It's fast, maybe even faster than a Dragonite. She spends most of the time awake, knowing she should be asleep beside True, watching the clouds whir by. They have plenty of room in first class—sometimes it pays to date a gym leader—but she doesn't want to walk. And she can't sit still. So she draws.

She hasn't had the time to do this for fun and in no way tied to commissions and _I don't like stripes, make it lined_ and _that looks like it'll be 65% cotton I want 68%[_. She stills, taking a deep breath. No thinking about work right now. Draw. She accents the greens and browns of Hyde's body with small strokes of purple and yellow. She's probably fudging details but reminds herself that this doesn't have to go farther than her sketchbook. This is fun. Sitting in front of their tiny window as the sun begins to rise is fun, damn it.

She feels Casey jump up on the back of her chair but doesn't glance up. True's snoring softly in the seat beside her, and it's all the music she needs right now. His paws find purchase against her thin shirt as he leans down. "Always forget how good an artist you are," he whispers.

"I'm rusty," she says, and begins shading around the pupil. "You think they're gonna be okay?"

"The team?" he asks. When she nods he says, "They'll be fine. It's like everyone's getting a vacation." She adds a few strokes of blue in the shadows, for contrast. "It'll be nice, just having the three of us. Reminds me of how it used to be."

It had been him and True for years now; now she's torn so many different ways, between gym battles and League duties and teaching part-time at the local school—and whenever she's not busy with those, Sherri's usually in town. She adds a few more hatchmarks along Hyde's trunk. "You miss it?"

He doesn't answer for a long time. She peeks at him, surprised to see his brow furrowed so deeply. Pikachu aren't supposed to look like they're battling existential crises. "She's happy," he finally decides, and stares expectedly at her.

He doesn't elaborate and she doesn't ask him to. Instead she closes her sketch pad and box of pencils and places them back in her bag. She has no idea where they are and doesn't have the patience to flag down a flight attendant; instead she leans her head against True's shoulder and closes her eyes.

She doesn't realize she'd fallen asleep until the plane jolts beneath her with a screech. Sherri yelps and grabs the closest thing available—thankfully it's True's hand and not Casey, who smirks at her from True's lap.

"I don't think I like planes," Sherri says weakly, brushing bits of hair from her mouth.

True smiles, sleepy eyed, and kisses her good morning. Sherri's so tired that she doesn't even mind the mild case of morning breath. "Good thing we're getting off soon." She turns to the open window, grinning wide. Sherri leans over her, expecting to see more fields of endless gray blue.

Instead she sees bright green everywhere: dark leafy palm trees and the brightest, clearest water she's seen in her life. Her mouth drops, and she turns to True with a shaky, "Is… is that—"

True nods. "Welcome to Alola."


	2. Chapter One

They've been in Alola for less than fifteen minutes, and Sherri already knows one thing: it's full of tourists.  
  
At least, she's been in Alola's  _airport_. And maybe she shouldn't be too surprised, technically being one herself. But she doesn't need a keen eye for details when the people swarming around them dress so… obviously, with loud-printed shirts that are just as likely to sag on their bodies as they are to tightly hug every possible curve. Never the perfect fit. True has to hold her hand to keep her fingers from twitching for needles she most definitely does not have (within easy reach) and even then her eyes keep shifting.  
  
"How many hours was that?" Casey asks, yawning from True's shoulder.  
  
She looks away from a young woman complaining about a broken phone, readjusting her backpack on her shoulder. "Too many. I'm glad we're back on solid ground."  
  
"Not for long," True says, tucking a folded a piece of paper back into a small black journal. "Landing at the airport was step one. We have to take a boat to get to the main island."  
  
Casey groans. "Don't tell me I have to get prodded before getting on the boat, too."  
  
"No," True laughs, "but that's why we went to Nurse Joy in Viridian. To  _save_  you a prodding."  
  
"You're not even Kanto native," Sherri teases him. " _And_  you were a battling Pokemon before. Don't tell me you haven't been vaccinated before."  
  
"It was years ago," he says, frowning. "And it's not like I'm going to be battling."  
  
"We don't know what might happen here," True says softly. "And it's always better to be prepared."  
  
She catches True's brow furrowing—it's subtle, easily missable with her head tilted away from her—and changes course. "Okay, enough sad talk. Look where we are!" she says, gesturing to the sunlight streaming in from the glass walls and bleaching the pale carpet. The tiny island that houses Alola's only airport is drunk with it—the palm trees that sway in the breeze, the surf swallowing the white sand, the sleek bodies of unfamiliar Pokemon darting between bushes and vines, they all wear the golden light like a second skin and revel in dressing up.  
  
One squeeze of her hand is enough to bring them both back inside; True seems lighter now, her face relaxed. Sherri grins. "Everything'll be fine. You know where we're going, miss world traveler?"  
  
"Melemele," True says slowly, and points to a map of the region annotated with cities and towns and prime tourist attractions. "At least, I think that's where we're headed. Kukui will know for sure."  
  
"The man who arranged us to get over here?" True nods, and Sherri tilts her head. "You still haven't told me much about him."  
  
True winces. "He's… not easy to explain. You'll understand when we see him." They round the corner and step out onto the street—the sunlight is harsher without the layer of glass and air conditioning to shield them, but the warmth feels good on her skin. The airport spills out to an open pier, abuzz with vendors advertising souvenirs and food and drinks, but the main attraction are the boats docked in every available pier. She's marveled at the size and colors and sheer variety: the city-bound ferry boats, painted in bright greens and pinks; medium boats big enough for a few families, blinding white with blue trim and with massive sails held fast with rope; and smaller boats, with carefully-penned names painted on their noses.  
  
She has just enough time to notice a tiny passenger boat stained gray by the sea when she hears a booming voice call out, "Aha! Alola, True Fargone!" A dark hand waves high above the crowd. True tugs her along, her smile already tight, to that tiny passenger boat and the man standing atop it.  
  
There's a lot to process; the dirty lab coat and the white cap to match, the bare and very well toned torso, the chin beard blending seamlessly into a five-o'clock shadow, the huge smile tying it all together. If she saw him walking down the street back home she'd probably give him second passing glance—because he's  _beautiful_ , she can appreciate beautiful men—before she'd move on to the women he'd surely leave giggling in his wake. But right now he's the only thing she can look at, if only because she's too surprised to do anything else. He steps easily off his boat to greet them, his arms thrown open. "So glad you could make it!" he calls out, his voice smooth like Combee honey. "How was your flight?"  
  
She glances over to True from the corner of her eye; Casey is smirking and True is clearing her throat, trying to look anywhere but his chest. She doesn't seem to notice Sherri staring at her. "Long, but good. Thank you again for inviting us."  
  
"Hey now, no thanks needed—you're the one doing me a favor, yeah? And  _you_ ," he says, turning to face her with piercing brown eyes, "must be Sherri. It's great to finally meet you."  
  
She'll have a story to tell Laurie when she gets home, that's for damn sure. Up close she can see the shape and gleam of his eyes behind the sunglasses sliding off his large nose; they're especially bright compared to his lazy smile. "Likewise," Sherri says, and extends a hand. "Though I can't really say I know much about you."  
  
"Nah? We'll fix that while we Surf on out of here. C'mon."  
  
The boat creaks under their feet, and despite Kukui gentle assurances and wide smiles Sherri still feels uneasy. True and Casey, who have spent their fair share of time riding on little more than a Blastoise's shell, press against the railing at the front of the boat to lean into the spray; Sherri sticks as close to the middle as possible with the bags, clinging to the side of the captain's quarters.  
  
"Waters are pretty calm here, we're not too far out!" Sherri turns to Kukui, who has thrown his side window open. He takes one look at her and laughs. "Let me guess, you haven't been sailing much?"  
  
"I usually stick to the ground," she admits, forcing herself to uncurl her fingers. When she doesn't fall right on her face she unlocks her knees. "Trains and maybe the occasional cab, if I can find one. True's the all-terrain travel expert," she says, gesturing forward.  
  
Casey has climbed off True's shoulder to stand on the guard rail. True turns around and waves, her mouth round with something—and then Casey's calling for her, pointing to a dark smudge on the horizon.  
  
"The mainland, Melemele," Kukui calls out, and True offers a thumbs-up. The gesture turns to an open hand, but Sherri shakes her head and mouths  _I'm okay._  True nods, her smile less bright, and settles beside Casey. Kukui clears his throat after a long, silent minute, and when she meets his eyes his smile is softer, though no less genuine. "How long've you two been together?"  
  
"It'll be two years this February," Sherri says, smiling softly.   
  
"You know she was one of the first people I met in Kanto, after all the legal mumbo-jumbo was sorted out?" he asks, stretching his arms above his head. "There I was, out of the airport like a tipsy Mudbray, and I stumbled right into her 'cause I wasn't watching where I was going. We were on the ground and everything. Thought her Charizard was going to eat me right up when we all figured out what had happened."  
  
She winces, laughing. "Jackson can be… kind of overprotective."  
  
"Turned out not to be much of a problem, since she was who I was looking for in the first place." He pulls a few levers and the boat turns, surprisingly graceful despite its weather-worn appearance. "I didn't get to talk with her much, outside of that and the battling, but she was great. Really helped me get on my way across Kanto." He pauses, lowering his head. "So when she said she'd come over here to help me out, I nearly went into a Quiver Dance!"  
  
She still remembers that phone call from True, who had been so flustered and excited Sherri had to beg her to slow down at least twice. They'd spent two months trying to balance both their schedules, and had broken open two bottles of wine in two different cities. "Have you been planning this for a while?"  
  
"It's kind of been an idea in the back of my head since I started studying," he says. "I'd go to those big conferences of Pokemon researchers and tell people where I'm from, and just get met with blank stares. It's gotten better now that I've started putting my name out there, but I'll still get people asking me where Alola is. Now that I've traveled a little more and made some good friends, I figure it's time for us to get on the big stage, y'know? It's time to make the rest of the world take us seriously, and gettin' our own League's the perfect way to do that. And why not model after the first and the biggest? But," he says, and chuckles, "that's all talk for later tonight. For now, let's just enjoy ourselves!"  
  
He gestures forward. Sherri looks up and—wow, land. The rugged mountain—or maybe it's a volcano?—draws her eye immediately, nowhere near tall enough to pierce the silvery wisps of clouds overhead but a dominant part of Melemele's skyline nevertheless. Even from the boat she can tell the sand has been bleached white by the sun, lapped up by turquoise water that froths against the shore. She notices all of this before she even registers the city creeping up on them like the tide, its short buildings gleaming in the mid-morning sun.  
  
"Hau'oli's especially pretty this time of day," Kukui says, and grins. "You'll wanna remember your first day here."  
  
It's enough of a dismissal to please Sherri; she's grown tired of watching the world pass from the sidelines. With a sigh she makes her way over to True, pressing against her. True beams, loosely wrapping an arm around her waist. Casey takes one look at them and chuckles, settling down beside True's free elbow.  
  
"It kind of reminds me of Cinnabar," True says quietly, her words almost swallowed by the hiss of the surf.  
  
She smiles, fitting her head in the space between True's neck and shoulder. She smells like the sea. "Homesick already?"  
  
"No," she says. She pauses. "What did Kukui have to say?"  
  
"Nothing much," Sherri says softly, threading their fingers together.  
  
"He's a good man." She squeezes Sherri's hand. "When I first agreed to come here he offered to house us at his place, but… I figured we could hole up in a hotel, spend some time alone."  
  
Sherri says nothing but kisses True firmly.  
  
They part just as Kukui guides them to the docks, with hardly a stutter or untimely knock against the wood; he leaps out to secure the boat with a rope he's pulled seemingly out of nowhere. If she's rattled him with their conversation he doesn't show it; his lackadaisical smile is back and his eyes are bright as he pulls them onto solid land again. "Hau'oli's the biggest city in all of Alola. Most tourists don't venture far away from here, at least not by themselves, so it's pretty easy to get around." He pulls a long, white device from his pocket and begins to punch something in without looking. "After we drop your bags off, I have to head out to set up the last of the decorations for tonight."  
  
"What's happening tonight?" Sherri asks.  
  
"The ceremony to honor the island's guardian Pokemon," True answers, rolling her shoulders experimentally. She turns to Sherri, head tilted. "Are you still okay to go?"  
  
The event sounds familiar, though the details are fuzzy; she blames jet lag and the stunning sights around her. Sherri shrugs into her backpack, readjusting to its weight. "Yeah, that sounds fun."  
  
"It's one of the best events on the whole island!" Kukui says, pocketing the white device with a satisfied smile. "I couldn't have planned your arrival better if I'd… well, planned it! So we can just meet at your hotel after you've settled in, gone sightseeing, and then I'll take you up to Iki Town for the main event! Sound like a plan?"  
  
"Sounds like something," Casey says from True's shoulder. True mutters something suspiciously like  _behave_  and he clears his throat. "Will everyone be there?"  
  
"Mostly natives. No tourists." Kukui scratches the back of his head. "Hala's always been adamant about keeping these ceremonies as far away from them as possible, so it'll just be us natives. He's kind of a stickler for tradition, you know?"  
  
Sherri pauses. She's unaware that she's tightened her grip until True winces beside her; she lets up, though not by much. "Will it be a problem having us here?"  
  
"Nah, I already cleared it with him. You three're my personal guests." Kukui looks back down at his device, smiles, and gestures down the dock. "But we won't get there if we don't start moving now, yeah? Follow Me!"  
  


* * *

  
Hau'oli City had been just as welcoming as she'd expect from a tourist hub, with clearly marked signs pointing to the most prominent sights. What had surprised them all was how accommodating it was to the local Pokemon as well—entire fields were gated off and thrummed with wildlife, all preening and singing and completely at home while strangers passed underneath them. One small black-and-white bird had even landed on True's head, prodding her gently with its gray beak before taking off with a bit of their lunch. True had raved about it to everyone they'd passed, and they'd all exploded into stories about similar events.  
  
The food was wonderful, the sights brilliant, but nothing has  _shocked_  her yet—not even the Tauros carts, which seemed to be the only mode of large-wheeled transportation inside the city proper. She's seen (and used) enough rental Pokemon in Saffron to know about their use as manual labor, but the Pokemon here seemed… more relaxed. Maybe that was the effect of living by the ocean, or being around such friendly people all the time. She can't remember the last time someone had smiled at her for no other reason than to say "hi."  
  
They spend their last hour in the hotel room, resting their feet and preparing for the night ahead. Normally Sherri pushes herself up to the last possible second, but she's here to relax and have fun; there are no hard work deadlines to meet, no fittings with finicky customers or actors. Instead she allows herself to sit and clear her mind, and open her sketchbook to a fresh blank page. She draws in fast strokes until she can pick out an image: True and the tiny birds from earlier that afternoon. She glances up every so often to see Casey nibbling on the last of their malasadas on the bed behind her, careful not to let a crumb go to waste. When the bathroom door opens Sherri calls out, "What time did Kukui say he'd pick us up?"  
  
"Seven, I think?" True walks forward in a robe, her legs flushed red from a hot shower and shave. She flops onto the bed beside Casey, her arms folded underneath her chin. "What're you drawing?"  
  
Sherri adds a few finishing touches before turning the sketchpad around with a grin. "What do you think, did I get your face right?"  
  
True's laughter shakes the bed. She pulls her damp hair out of her face and eyes her warmly, her ankles crossed above her. "You know I like everything you draw."  
  
Sherri quirks her brow, her grin turning sly. Casey coughs loudly and heads to the bathroom, where water starts running from the faucet. It's as much privacy as he can give them right now, and like hell is she going to miss the opportunity. She places her pencils and sketchbook down on the small office table and lies down on the bed beside True. There's a light blush on her face when she says, "Kukui'll be here soon."  
  
Normally she would protest—she knows how to make the most out of limited time—but her feet hurt from all the walking they've done and they've both just taken showers. She kisses True anyway, long and deep, and inches her fingers into True's short hair. Kissing sideways is awkward but she knows, just by the press of True's lips and the pleasurable warmth in her belly, that kissing upright will lead to them missing the event completely.  
  
This doesn't bother her. They have a clock counting down on the time they have together, but it measures in weeks instead of hours—Sherri doesn't have to rush off to fill a commission or work at the theater, and True doesn't have to fly off to Indigo Plateau for a meeting or back to Viridian for a scheduled gym battle. When she wakes up tomorrow True will be beside her, tangled in these bedsheets; maybe they'll take a lazy day tomorrow, just stretch out on the bed as their bodies readjust to the clock.  
  
"So." Sherri parts after a soft, long kiss. "What should I know about Kukui?"  
  
True brushes a curl from Sherri's forehead, thoughtful. "He's lived in Alola all his life but studied in Unova. Very passionate about his work—he studies how Pokemon translate their energy into attacking. He came to ask advice about establishing a League here."  
  
"Did he ask for you specifically?"  
  
True shakes her head. "But he got really excited when I said I'd go. I guess we really hit it off when we met."  
  
"S'not the only thing you hit, if I heard the story right."  
  
True smiles. "He told you, huh?"  
  
Sherri nods. She tugs at True's hand and fits it in hers, threading their fingers together. "What about this Hala, do you know anything about him?"  
  
"If I remember right, he's one of the Kahunas—I think those are like our gym leaders. Kukui explained everything so quickly that I'm sure I missed something, but he  _is_  important. He'll be there tonight."  
  
Sherri sighs. "I guess I just don't understand why Kukui was the one to come to Kanto, and not one of the Kahunas. A League is more than just one person."  
  
"I don't know. Maybe we'll find out tonight." True kisses her one more time before sitting up from the bed. "We should probably get dressed. Don't want to show up to an important ceremony in our bathrobes."  
  
"I mean," she begins, but her words dissolve into quiet giggles as she catches True's flushed face. "No, you're right. I need to change too," she says, looking down at her own robe.  
  
"You're silly," True says with a shake of her head, but she smiles as she closes the bathroom door behind her.  
  
She'd planned her outfit the second Kukui gave her the dress code; something light and easy to move in, nothing too showy or too conservative. She lingers a few extra moments on the bed, reveling in the thin sheets in her fingers and the smell of the hotel shampoo right where True had been laying. A small part of her wishes they had nowhere else to be, a corny movie and some room service; the other wants things to start moving again.  
  
The bed dips beside her; she blinks up to see Casey staring down at her, his face clean of powdered sugar. "Everything okay?" she asks, still unwilling to move.  
  
"I don't know. Nervous about tonight." He sighs. "I get the feeling we're heading into something really big."  
  
She likes to consider herself skilled at talking with Pokemon—she knows how bodies move, what meaning lurks behind shifty eyes or twitching fingers. But talking with Casey is too much like talking with a human: there's a little too much sharpness in his features when he speaks, too much hesitation in his eyes when he looks away to think. She sits up. "True doesn't seem worried, and she's the one who's really met him."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"I still don't know much about him as a person, but he seems like a good guy. Do you not like him?"  
  
"It's not that, he just… reminds me of Professor Oak. He has a way of keeping important things close to his chest, and cluing us in when it's best for him."  
  
She's only met the professor a few times; all she knows is that he's brilliant, and a family friend of True's. "I thought you liked the professor."  
  
"I do. I also know that sometimes it's best to keep an eye on him, to make sure you're not blindsided." He stretches, curling his hands into the bedsheets. "Or maybe I'm just being paranoid. Maybe things'll be just fine and we'll be back here eating matasamas."  
  
"Malasadas," she corrects gently, and turns to the front door. She's seen enough theatre to know that this is usually where something big happens—a knock on the door, a telephone call. Only Hau'oli answers from the open windows.


	3. Chapter Two

Sherri doesn't realize she's fallen asleep until True is gently shaking her awake.  
  
It takes her a moment to wake up and place herself. They're out of the city proper now; Hau'oli's gleaming buildings and noisy crowds have been replaced with shady palm trees and thick undergrowth. The sky is more purple and red than blue and pink, but the worst of the long shadows have been chased away by the lit torches glowing brilliantly in the light.  
  
There's no door to open but Kukui stands outside the cart anyway. He didn't dress up for the ceremony—seriously, does the guy ever wear a shirt?—though she notices his lab coat is pressed and clear of any dirt. He smiles warmly as he extends a hand. "An Assist, ladies?"  
  
Sherri laughs and takes it, quickly stepping onto the dirt road. True is close behind her, brushing tiny bits of yellow fur off her flowing white top. Casey is the last to leave, expertly jumping down without disturbing the tiny blond-wood guitar strapped to his back.  
  
Kukui bids farewell to Kaipo the Tauros, grazing his fingers down its muscled back, and turns to them. "Well. Guess we should—"  
  
But he's interrupted by several shouts of " _Kukuiiii!_ " and suddenly there’s an actual horde of children swooping right up to them. The professor immediately bows down to their level, playfully poking them between questions of “Are you gonna show off a new move today?” and “Where’s pasta?” and “You promised last time I could be Trainer Red, can I still, can I can I  _can I?_ ”  
  
True’s face brightens at the mention of the old cartoon. The kids notice immediately, taking them in with wide eyes and gummy grins. One dark boy with a shock of white hair exclaims, “She’s even got a Pikachu like him!” Then they move toward the trio, their many bodies coming together in one mob to ring around them. This close she can get a good look at them: bright eyes, mostly brown skin, fat hands that cling to air and clothing alike.  
  
“Now kids,” Kukui says, brushing off dust from his now-not-so-clean lab coat. “What’d I say about mobbing strangers?”  
  
“Don’t do it,” a chorus replies.  
  
“And what’re you doing right now?”  
  
“Doing iiiit.”  
  
Sherri snickers. Casey gives her a knowing look before squeezing his way out of the crowd. The sour expression from the hotel bedroom is gone; he smiles as he jumps up onto the first wooden steps, crying out “Come on!” before leading the pack of children up into the town, the firelight catching on the gold guitar strings.  
  
True smiles fondly as he disappears over the crest, extending her hand. “We should probably follow him.”  
  
“Probably,” Sherri echoes, and threads their fingers together.  
  
Kukui leads them up the wooden steps. Whereas Hau’oli opened its arms to them immediately, Iki Town is more reserved: the wooden houses and buildings are shaded by towering palm trees, which seem to dance in the breeze; thick undergrowth sprawls wild up to the main paths, flattened by years and years of walking. A group of wild-eyed teenagers stands in front of the largest building, drumming and strumming and singing with reckless abandon; people dance before them, their bodies bending and twirling under the slowly darkening sky.  
  
True, who is just tall enough to see over the crowd, looks over to her. "Did you want something to drink?"  
  
She shakes her head; she’s too excited to do anything but explore. “Maybe we should try and find Casey.” Which should be easy enough, if they’re looking; how many guitar-carrying Pikachu can there be in a city?  
  
Everywhere she turns there are little stone statues and pictures of what she assumes is Tapu Koko—sometimes as a round, bird-like head, others as a thin-limbed creature with what look like giant coconut halves. It isn’t until she sees a mural, painstakingly painted on the side of the house directly facing the wooden stage, that she realizes the “halves” form the bird shape. The colors blend into each other, separated only by thin outlines and masterful shadows. Tapu Koko flies toward them, bright fury in its dark eyes and electricity flaring from its outstretched body.  
  
Casey sits beneath Tapu Koko's left wing, strumming quietly to three small Pokemon. The first two seem patient if slightly disinterested—the round tawny owl keeps turning its head back and forth, eager to capture every sight and sound of the festival thrumming around them; the second, a tiny black-and-red kitten, curls up at the base of the mural and looks like it’s about to fall asleep. Only the third, a blue slip of a Pokemon, stands in rapt attention; even from here Sherri can see the round ‘o’ of its mouth, the beating of its webbed tail keeping time to the beat.  
  
She immediately regrets not bringing her camera with her; it's sitting right where she left it, on her nightstand back in Saffron. She leans close to True, not wanting to disturb the scene. "You think they sell cameras at the hotel?"  
  
True shrugs, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene before her. Casey lifts his eyes, sees them, and smiles. The slight gesture attracts the tiny owl's attention—it turns to them, blinks once, and then… falls asleep. Sherri has to fight not to laugh.  
  
"So that's where you three went, eh?"  
  
Six heads turn to their left; Casey's fingers slip, faltering on a sour chord before falling silent. The old man in yellow robes shakes his head, his bushy brows furrowed. "I thought I told you not to wander too far," he says, his head turned down to—of course, the three Pokemon.  
  
"But we didn't!" The blue Pokemon's ears flop against its comically round head as it slides closer. "We were just wanderin', like you said, and  _then_  we saw him and… well, you heard him playing, right?"  
  
"No need to explain yourselves," the old man says, and smiles. "I did hear him. He's very talented." He turns to Sherri and True, adjusting the white belt around his waist. "Forgive me, I don't believe I know you."  
  
"Oh, um…" True clears her throat, pulling her hand from Sherri's. "I'm, ah, True Fargone. This is Sherri, and the Pikachu is my Casey."  
  
"So you're Kukui's… guests," he says slowly. "He told me you were here somewhere. I’m Hala, Melemele’s kahuna.”  
  
 _Stickler for tradition,_  Kukui had said. But his eyes seem kind as he regards them, taking True's hand and shaking it firmly. He looks down to the four Pokemon and croons something in a soft, unfamiliar language. Only Casey doesn't respond—the other three bid their goodbyes before blending back into the crowd.  
  
True bows low, her green eyes almost amber in the setting sun. "We're… we're honored to be here, Kahuna Hala."  
  
"I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," Hala sighs softly. "I believe we have business to discuss, yes? If you'd follow me."  
  
He leads them past the mural and into the house proper, taking the time to take off his sandals. True and Sherri follow immediately. Despite the high walls and spacious open windows, the space is cozy: dusky red walls and dark wood floors are broken up by crimson and gold blankets thrown over every couch and chair, and the firelight outside is muted by breezy homemade curtains. Hala sits down in the large rocking chair on the opposite side of the entry way; Sherri and True settle on the couch closest to him, which sighs as it takes their weight. Casey jumps up moments after, his guitar placed on the further couch arm, to settle into True's lap; her hand comes to his back immediately. Sherri's throat tightens.  
  
Hala begins without preamble. "Kukui did not give me much warning when he left for Kanto last year. I thought it was for another one of his professor duties, that he'd only be gone for a few weeks. Six months later," he says, anchoring his elbow to the arm of his chair, "he comes back in the dead of night with notes and diaries about his adventures in that region, and in those notes and diaries there was a plan. He gathered the four Kahunas and presented to us that plan."  
  
"To build a Pokemon League in Alola," True says softly. When Hala turns to her, quietly expectant, True clears her throat. "He approached our High Champion first—the uh, the person who oversees all League operations in Kanto." Her hand in Sherri's grows tighter; Casey stretches up to press the top of his head into her chin, murmuring something low. "He believes that it's time for Alola to… oh, what was the term he used."  
  
"'To ride the wave ourselves instead of watching you all from the beach,'" Casey says quietly. His brow furrows. "I think that's what he said at the meeting."  
  
Hala nods grimly. "He didn't ask for our permission until after you had agreed to come, True Fargone."  
  
True reddens. "We didn't know—"  
  
"I don't blame you. There's no need for worrying," he says calmly, and smiles. Sherri squeezes True's hand again as he continues. "I cannot fault him for his passion. His methods… can be questionable, but his heart is in the right place. It always has been, ever since he was a little boy. And because we knew this, we agreed to his request." He pauses. "On one condition."  
  
Sherri's breath catches. "Sir?"  
  
“I try to keep tabs on what happens in other regions while interacting with mainlanders in Hau'oli. Your League is well organized if not… without its faults. Some would say it's dangerous; others, outright irresponsible. Kukui wants to see if we can take the good in that system and marry it to our customs. We have agreed to let him try. But you must understand our past before you can assist in planning for our future. So you will take our island challenge as an Alolan, with Alolan Pokemon."  
  
The words settle heavily on them. True looks as though her mind is going a million miles a minute; Sherri is speechless, frozen on Hala's last words. Casey is the first one to respond, rising from True's lap with an open mouth. "We didn't think this would be another journey," he says weakly.  
  
"Hau'oli may be large, but it is only a tiny part of our region. Could I know Kanto, truly know it, if I spent time in your biggest city?"  
  
Saffron, Sherri wants to say. You could learn a lot about Kanto from Saffron, how its people mov and walk and how they love the art of battle—the city sprawls, reaching out to touch everything it can. But Saffron couldn't hope to contain Viridian's dreamers, or Celadon's scholars and artisans, or Fuchsia's schemers; Saffron doesn't spill out to the sea like Cerulean and Vermilion do, or rise into the mountains like Pewter. Saffron is a vital piece of Kanto, its thumping heart; it is not the only piece.  
  
"It sounds… wonderful." True takes a deep breath and turns to her. "But I promised you a vacation."  
  
The first week after she'd told Kukui "yes," True had sent her pages after pages of scanned articles he'd brought with him, all promising sights and sounds and experiences she couldn't possibly dream up herself. She had been promised a getaway from work and the hustle-and-bustle of the city, glistening sand in her toes, sun on her face; she'd been promised baths in better-than-decent hotels and long, long nights kissing under thin sheets.   
  
But it doesn't take more than a few seconds of staring at True to know that she  _wants_  to go. She breathes easier out in the wild, loves exploring new things and meeting new Pokemon. How often had they gotten together to reminisce about True's journey across Kanto, the sights she'd seen and the people she'd met? Her eyes always lit up and Sherri had always  _wondered_. Things had never worked out for her to go on a badge journey—too little money, not enough time, too many jobs and responsibilities and then-girlfriends  
  
She'd be starting out in a new place, with a woman she loved,  _really_  loved, with Pokemon she'd never see back home. When the hell is she going to get an opportunity like this again?  
  
"I'll need to buy new shoes first," Sherri says softly. "And we have to go slow, okay, I don't want to miss—"  
  
The rest of her sentence is eaten up by True's mouth, on hers with a sweet swiftness. It's a chaste kiss and lasts only a moment; they part when they hear the rocking chair creak and Hala push himself to his feet. She knows, just by the taste of her mouth and True's bright eyes, that she's made the right choice.  
  
Casey breaks the silence, jumping from True's lap to the stuffed arm chair. She only catches a glance of his deepening frown before he turns to Hala. "So what happens now?"  
  
Hala chuckles knowingly, looking past the door thrown open by the wind. "Come and see," he says, and leads them out of the room. True grabs Casey’s guitar, holding it close to her chest.  
  
Her head is still buzzing, trying to process the sudden shift in their plans. The air crackles with wet heat and light from the blazing torches that ring the path and the wooden stage. Perhaps a hundred expectant faces look up, throwing cheers into the open air as Hala steps to the middle of the stage.  
  
He begins speaking in Alolan, pauses, then clears his throat before continuing in Kantonian. "Every season we come together as an island to thank Tapu Koko for watching over and protecting us. And every season we send out new trainers to begin their trek across Melemele and throughout the Alola region. It is a time of thanks… and it is also a time of beginnings."  
  
It's still bright enough to see his every movement—he whistles low and long, the sound echoing over the expectant crowd. Silence meets them for a long moment, until three small figures jump onto the stage. The crowd cheers, even applauds, as they make their way to the mural-side of the stage. She recognizes them immediately: the Pokemon from the mural, who had listened to Casey playing.  
  
She can almost feel True and Casey straighten and begin to analyze them. The tawny owl flares its newly-preened wings, snapping its blunt beak in the cool air. She has to squint to make out the black-and-red kitten, who stares at her with intelligent gold eyes. The bluer, slimmer Seel-like Pokemon thumps its tail against the golden wood as it looks out at the crowd, a wide smile stretched across its pointed face.  
  
"As is our custom," Hala says, and immediately the crowd dies down, "those hoping to begin their island challenges must step forward and prove their case to these three Pokemon; they will be the ones to decide if a trainer is worthy to begin their journey. Now, who will be the first to—"  
  
" _Meeeee!_ " a high voice calls out. The crowd practically parts for the skinny boy who launches himself up onto the stage, his smile wider than an Electrode's and three times as brilliant. His dark hair—is it the light or is it  _green?_ —is pulled up in a messy ponytail, with pieces falling to frame his baby-round face.  
  
Despite his heavy sigh, Hala still smiles as he turns to the newcomer. "Hau, we talked about this—"  
  
"Great starter Pokemon!" the kid—Hau—says, steamrolling over the kahuna. She knows this type of boy—overly eager to prove himself, the loudest voice in the room. She'd met her fair share of them in Vermilion, high off of beating  _the notoriously difficult Lt. Surge_  with the Diglett their parents had helped them catch. "My name is Hau, grandson to Melemele's kahuna and, uh… aspiring Pokemon trainer! I hope to prove myself worthy by showing my awesome battling skills!"  
  
The black-and-red kitten lifts its head, swipes a lazy paw over its face, and yawns. "Do you want to battle us, or someone in the crowd?"  
  
“Uh… hm.” The boy turns to Hala, a question painted plainly on his face. Hala does nothing but incline his head back to the starters; clearly this is Hau's show to run. Hau looks out into the crowd, lifting himself onto his toes. "Maybe… hey! You with the Pikachu! Battle me?"  
  
Sherri starts to stand on her tiptoes, but then notices that Hau is staring in their direction. Staring at her.  
  
No. Staring at  _them_.  
  
The crowd parts, leaving a pathway for True and Casey to climb onto the stage. She sighs, turning to Casey. "What do you think?"  
  
"Seems kind of unfair," he whispers, "since you're a gym leader and all."  
  
"Technically you're a gym leader's Pokemon."  
  
"I could battle him," Sherri says. True and Casey both turn to her, wide eyed and incredulous. Sherri smiles. "It'd level the playing field a bit more."  
  
Casey stares at her for one long moment, then sighs. "He's just starting out, right? Shouldn't be too tough a match."  
  
True takes the guitar in her hand and Sherri takes Casey on her shoulder. When Preston had been a small Pidgey he would ride her like this, flipping between her shoulder or the top of her hair; Casey, though broader and far heavier, knows just where to put his paws and how to distribute his weight. Sherri takes a tentative step onto the stage, taking a moment to study the intricate design painted in white along the edge.  
  
Maybe too long—Casey brushes his cheek against hers, and  _wow_ , shouldn't that tingle more? "Eyes up," he says softly. "Focus."  
  
So she looks up, and she does. Somehow she's missed the flash of light announcing Hau's pick—the tiny Pichu at his feet bounces from foot to foot, tiny paws curled into fists and her black tail wagging against Hau's bare leg. She doesn't remember the last time she's seen such a fierce expression from such a tiny thing.  
  
"Keep it simple," Casey says, and jumps onto the stage.  
  
The first battle she'd ever had was the first one she'd ever lost—she'd been thirteen, fresh off a high from a dance practice in Ecruteak, and had been escorted by her mother's nagging Eevee. A huge teenage boy with his equally huge Croconaw had challenged her to a battle. They'd lost because all the best-aimed Tackles in the world could do no damage against something with that many sharp teeth. Her second had been against her best friend, right before she'd left to go study in Sinnoh—she'd won that one with sheer dumb luck, using that same Eevee against Tee's ancient Furret.  
  
Her third battle had been in Silph during the Rocket disaster, and she'd almost lost Preston after he evolved trying to save her from an Ekans.  
  
But she and Hau are on the same page, and Casey  _knows_  how to battle. So she stands her ground and juts her chin up, feeling every eye on her as she says, "My name is Sherri Frasier, and I'll be your opponent."  
  
Hau grins like this is just a walk in the park. "Sweet! Okay… Makana, start off with a—"  
  
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. Most Pichu are clumsy on their big feet, but Makana jumps into the air—much higher than she was expecting, wow—to crash butt-first into Casey. He makes a quick turn and manages to escape the brunt of the attack, but not fast enough—Makani's diamond-shaped tail just manages to strike his cheek, making him flinch. He lands opposite True, looking more stunned than hurt. His eyes meet hers immediately.  
  
"You, uh, you okay?" Sherri asks.  
  
"It was just a Tail Whip!" Casey answers. He shifts on the stage, like he's testing the ground beneath him. "She's not a Dragonite."  
  
And thank Mew for that. Okay, Sherri,  _think._  She's watched more than her fair share of Battle Network. Maybe… "Uh, then let's go for a Quick Attack!"  
  
She's expecting a hard dash, a head-in-the-gut that will take Makana right out of the running. But instead Casey makes a hard right and begins to run in circles, faster and faster until he's little more than a yellow blur around the Pichu. She feels the wind of it even from the edge of the stage. People around her murmur with interest, leaning forward with inquisitive expressions and muttering to each other.  
  
"…looks familiar…"  
  
"…swear I've seen that move before…"  
  
"…don't think I know them…"  
  
Makana sways uneasily on her feet, holding her head in confusion. Hau looks just as nervous; the torchlight seems almost eager to show his panicked eyes. Either he's just approaching puberty or nervous—maybe both—because his voice cracks as he calls out, "Th-Thundershock!"  
  
Electricity crackles; the weak jolt of electricity loops around her, crashing just short of Casey's circuit. The Pikachu stumbles to a stop almost right in front of her, breathing heavily and—what the hell, is that a  _smirk?_  
  
Yes, right there on his round face. He turns to her, oddly energetic, and taps the stage with the end of his tail. "One last attack?"  
  
"Right!" Sherri says, and grins. "Use, uh, Thundershock right back!"  
  
The bolt of electricity he looses isn't strong—maybe not even strong enough to bring down Misty's Starmie. But it's more than enough for tiny Makana, who gets blasted back against Hau's legs. He immediately scoops her up and scans her, brushing his fingers gently over her forehead and murmuring something low and sweet into her ear.  
  
She's expecting Hala to come up to the stage and declare a winner. Instead the crowd begins chanting, "Judgment! Judgment!" Casey comes to stand at her side and turns to his left; she follows his gaze and sees the three starting Pokemon bowed in deep conversation.  
  
"You did great!" True calls behind her. She turns to see her girlfriend beaming, her hands gripping the edge of the stage. "I didn't know you could battle like that."  
  
Her head is light and her heart is pounding in her chest and her ears are ringing with the chanting crowd. No wonder so many people go on journeys. "Casey did all the work," she admits, but grins.  
  
"I didn't even fall on my face too much," Casey says, rubbing a paw behind his head.  
  
A loud caterwaul pierces the noise; the crowd falls silent, and every eye turns to the three starters. The black-and-red kitten steps forward, torchlight reflecting in its amber eyes. "We've made our decision."  
  
Hau, still cradling Makana in his arms, beams. "You mean… I did it?"  
  
The kitten smiles. “You both did.”  
  
Just a moment ago she could hear every breath of the crowd; now she hears nothing. She straightens her posture, holds her hands in front of her like she’s about to present to the class. Which is  _silly_ , these aren’t teachers, just—  
  
“Hey,” a cheery voice says beneath her. “Do you know why the sun burps?”  
  
Just a little blue Pokemon with the sweetest smile she’s ever seen. Beside him, Casey seems quietly delighted. Sherri bends down, laughing softly. “Uh, no I don’t. Why?”  
  
“He was full of  _gas_.”  
  
Sound returns just in time to hear True’s loud laughter.


	4. Chapter Three

"Popplio's an awesome pick," Kukui tells them later, when the torches have burned themselves out and they begin walking back down the hill to Hau'oli. "They can get a little fussy and a little… ah, loud, especially as they start evolving. But they're the sweetest things."  
  
Sweet is the perfect word for the tiny Pokemon sleeping in her arms. He had introduced himself as  _Haro_  and immediately demanded to be carried in her arms, a request she had been all too happy to accept. He hasn't moved since. Throughout the night she'd marveled at his rubbery skin, so different from Casey's short fur and Preston's feathers, and the tiny whiskers along his muzzle. They tickle her now as he sleeps, his head comfortably resting on her shoulder.  
  
True has her own hands full with the small wooden amulets Hala had given them and Hau. She turns it in her hands, her fingers brushing against the smoothed edges and painted sides. "So every island challenger gets one of these amulets?"  
  
"Sure does!" Kukui says, walking backwards as he talks. "Each of those triangles represents one of the islands and their deity. The elders say that the four islands originally had four different kings, yeah, and they nearly tore the islands apart. The Tapu came up to stop 'em and unify them. Now we're one region, greater than our parts." Kukui laughs softly. "Just keep it tied to one of your bags and it'll open up whole new opportunities around the region, ones you wouldn't get if you were just tourists."  
  
Apparently their decision was already paying off. She turns to True with a smile, one hand teasing the thin flappy skin of Haro's collar. "So we just… what, go around Melemele doing the island challenge?"  
  
"Yeah. Melemele isn't that big of an island, so we only have one Trial." Kukui grins. "Should be pretty easy to find, just head north of the city. Once you clear that, you get to battle Hala for the Grand Trial. And if you beat  _him_ , you get to move on to the next island."  
  
"Sounds like a gym leader," Sherri says softly.  
  
"We take it easier on trainers just starting their journeys," True replies. She smiles. "And if you don't want to battle, I can."  
  
Kukui guides them to the edge of Hau'oli's city limits, right where the dirt transitions to concrete. Signs for the Pokemon School stand aggressively on the sides of the road. "My lab is just down on the coast that way," he says, pointing to a downward slope. "We'll just Whirlwind through some final paperwork, I get you set up in our storage system, and you'll be off at Extremespeed. Say we meet around early morning?"  
  
Sherri opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted by a long, loud yawn. True shakes her head. "Uh, maybe the afternoon?"  
  
"Ah, yeah! I always forget, jet lag. So we'll meet at my place around three. And hey," he says, approaching them. "I really appreciate you doin' this for me, yeah? This might not've been what you signed up for, but I promise it'll be an experience you never forget!"  
  
He disappears into the darkness with little more than a wave and a low call for "Pasta!" True and Sherri meet eyes for a moment and then laugh. Casey, who has been silent on True's shoulder, sighs. "Guess we should get goin', huh?"  
  
Hau'oli does not light up the night the way Saffron does; no long roads of fluorescent lights, no music blaring into the smoggy skies. They find their way back to the hotel relatively quickly, following signs and their own feet. The woman at reception has gone, replaced by a sleepy young man buried in a small book. He doesn't even glance up as they make their way back to their fourth floor room.  
  
Haro fidgets in her arms, his cool lips dribbling drool. He only stirs when True opens their door, which has cooled considerably in the hours they've been away. "Snnnnn… pop goes the Sneasel," he whimpers, and exhales.  
  
She immediately realizes they don't have a bed for him. How do water Pokemon even  _sleep?_  Putting him in the sink or tub seems cruel, but she'd read somewhere that they needed to keep their skin lubricated. True is one step ahead of her, wrapping Haro in damped towels and placing him at the very foot of the bed. He doesn't seem to even notice the movement, and starts snoring softly.  
  
Casey sighs, loud and long, having placed his guitar against the small work desk. "I'll be outside," he says, and makes to the open window. True looks about ready to follow him, but stops when he catches her eyes and shakes his head. "Just need some time to think things over," he says, and hops onto the patio overlooking the city.  
  
True and Sherri change out of their clothes in silence and begin their bedtime routines. She's just fastened her silk nightcap when True falls onto the bed, her cheek pressed against the white cotton pillowcase. "I probably can't ask you to put my hair in braids with my hair this short.  
  
"Nonsense," she says, and turns to her with a teasing grin. "They'll just be super tiny."  
  
True smiles softly, finding her hand. The grip is loose, and it feels good after the tight exchanges they've traded throughout the day. "You're still okay with this?" she asks softly. "Because we can… I can just go out in the day, you can do whatever you want to, then we'll meet up at night and—"  
  
"Hey." Sherri shakes her head, scooting closer. "The whole point was to spend our time together, right? I don't want to come out to a foreign region only for us to split off and do our own thing. We do that at home all the time." Though she misses the ambient noise of the fan, she's glad she didn't turn it on; Haro has started blowing bubbles in his sleep, and even as they watch one pops on the stagnant blades and showers onto the carpet. "Besides, trainers travel together all the time. I hear it's safer that way."  
  
True nods. "Sometimes I wish I'd brought a partner with me the first time.”  
  
Sherri's heard enough about the early days of the "Jackson and Britt" saga to laugh knowingly. True chuckles too, her smile turning shy. Sherri sighs, snuggling closer. "Well, we're together now. We're having fun, and we're… hm. Can you call it co-parenting if they aren't…”  
  
But she trails off. This close she can see the freckles along True's skin—they've only been out in the Alolan sun for a few hours, and already she has a spray of new freckles across her face. In the morning they'll be hidden behind her sunscreen-foundation; right now they're masked pretty effectively by her flushed skin. "F-for the paperwork they'll want just, um, just—"  
  
Haro is very much at their feet and Casey is only one wrong sound away from popping in on them. So she doesn't allow her kiss to linger so long, just enough to steady True's breathing. "Business talk tomorrow," she says quietly. "I'm sure Kukui'll go into everything when we meet up with him."  
  
True smiles softly, gathering her in her arms. She falls asleep quickly.  
  
Consciousness the next morning comes in waves: first the feel of thin sheets over her body, then the early morning sunlight dribbling from the open windows, and the soft snores on the other side of her pillow.  
  
She reaches out, expecting to find a hand or a thigh or a soft belly roll. Instead she gets silk sheets, and  _then_  she feels cool, rubbery skin. Sherri opens her eyes slowly, brow already furrowed, to see the Popplio curled into a half-ball just inches from her chest.  
  
“Haro,” she calls softly. “Wake up, it's morning.”  
  
He'd fallen hard into sleep after the festivities—right in her arms as Kukui had led them down from Iki Town and back to Hau'oli—and even now is slow to wake. “No morning, Hala.”  
  
“Yes morning,” Sherri says softly. “And I'm not Hala.”  
  
He blinks up, dark brown eyes still hazy with sleep, and yawns. It takes him a few moments of staring to recognize her—when he does he smiles, shifting in the bed. “You're… Sherri!” At her nod, he grins. His eyes move over the room. “And…wait, where'd the other two go?”  
  
True is obviously not in the bed, though the sheets on her side have been tucked back in. She's more concerned about her shoes missing from underneath the small work desk, and Casey's guitar left on top of it. But as she turns to get out of bed to investigate, she finds a small folded note on her side table.  
  
 _Casey and I couldn't sleep and decided to get some fresh air. Didn't want to wake you up. We should be back in a few hours. Love you._  
  
“So much for heading out together,” she mutters, but gently refolds the message and places it back next to the lamp. It's only 8:30 now. How long had she been asleep after True and Casey had left? She knew she could sleep through a lot, but this seemed… odd, even for True.  
  
“She didn't take them!” Haro squeals behind her. Sherri turns to see the small Popplio on the low desk chair, his flippers balanced above two of the five Poke Balls. “We can go train, maybe catch some teammates!”  
  
Had Hala given her those? He must have—True had only brought Casey's ball with her, maybe a few Potions on the off chance they found themselves in a scrape. She pads quietly to Haro and picks one up in her hand. Preston's ball is practically ornamental these days, useful for getting him treated at the Pokemon Center and gathering dust on her mantle. These don't feel any different from his; smooth, comfortable in her hand, light as a feather without a Pokemon inside.  
  
“True and Casey should be back soon,” Sherri says quietly.   
  
“But we don't know when, right? I don't wanna be stuck in this place all day.” He's wide awake now, his tail flapping against the back of the chair. “We don't even have to travel that far away from the city! I  _promise!_ ”  
  
She's watched enough documentaries to know the basic gist of it all—hell, she's seen True do this. Go out into the wilderness and catch a friend. It'd be her own episode of Trainer Red, with better outfits. The walking shoes she'd brought with her would do just fine on smooth dirt paths.  
  
 _True would want to see this,_  she thinks.  
  
But… True wasn't here. Haro, with his goofy grin and flapping ears, was.  
  
“It'll only take a little bit?” she asks.  
  
Haro nods vigorously.   
  
She slips into last night's sundress before she can change her mind, quickly applying sunscreen on her arms and bare face and teasing out her hair. On the back of True's note she writes a short reply:  _Went out to explore with Haro. Meet for malasadas at 11._  
  
Haro sits at her feet, bouncing with excitement. "This is gonna be so much fun!"  
  
Ten-year-olds did this all the time. How hard could it be?  
  


* * *

  
She may or may have had daydreams about True taking her out into the wilderness and catching some rare Pokemon—a Vulpix, or maybe even a Horsea from Vermilion's pier—and True would take her hands in hers and guide her through the motions. The ball would sail in an arc in the open skies, brilliant and blinding, before absorbing her perfectly-incapacitated target in a burst of red light.  
  
Hers don't. She's an expert at carrying heavy things long distances, or juggling giant rolls of fabric in her arms. The problem is that, no matter how hard she tries, she can't seem to make the damn balls hit anything—they veer too far to the left or land several feet before her target or just don't travel. She used to think Poke Balls were sturdy things, to take being tossed on the ground so often. Apparently that only applies to balls bonded to Pokemon—these shatter as they hit rocks and even the hard earth, with no use of repair.  
  
“Looks like you're really dropping the ball,” Haro tells her bluntly.  
  
She groans. “It looks easy on TV—that was not.”  
  
Haro doesn't seem apologetic at all; if anything his smile grows wider. “Well, uh, it's okay! We're just gonna keep looking, yeah?” Haro scrambles back to her side, head tilted throughtfully. “And maybe, uh, ask someone for help.”  
  
Route One is surprisingly empty for nine in the morning—or maybe they've gone far enough inside the route to escape prying eyes. Far in the distance she can hear faint rumblings of the sea, and the sharp cries of bird Pokemon.  
  
“I think,” she starts to say, but Haro has turned his attention behind them.  
  
“Maybe that kid?”  
  
She has to stand on her toes and shade her eyes to see him: a small brown boy with an oversized hat, his hands flailing above him. "Uh… are you lost?"  
  
He shakes his head and looks down at his feet, then runs toward her. His wide mouth is smudged with ice cream residue, but he seems to take no notice of it. At his feet is a small black-and-cream rodent that looks just enough like a Rattata to concern her. He takes one look at the Pokemon and nods importantly. “This's a job for Tristan,” the young boy says, and comes to grab her hand.  
  
She stands her ground, thankfully stronger than this small child. "What are you—"  
  
“Me and Cheddar watched you. You can't catch nothin'." The boy wipes a huge fist over his mouth to clean it. “But it's okay. You just gotta learn how to work together.”  
  
“And you're going to teach me?” she asks incredulously. She knows immediately that it sounds worse than she meant it. “I mean—”  
  
The rat at the youngster's side bristles, and doesn't back down from Haro's soft growl. If the kid is offended he doesn't let on, though she does catch the slight pout. “Just 'cause I'm little doesn't mean I can't do nothin'. Besides, I had the bestest teacher in the world.”  
  
“I didn't mean…” Sherri sighs. She's never been good with kids, not even when she'd been one herself. But at this point, with only one ball in her hand, she's desperate enough for anything—she refuses to go back to the hotel room, or meet up with True, empty handed. With one look to Haro, who nods, she extends a hand. “I'm Sherri.”  
  
The boy stares at it for a few silent seconds before nodding. “This is Cheddar,” he says, gesturing to the narrow-eyed rat beside him. “He's a Rattata. And I'm Tristan the human.”  
  
“He's,” she starts to say, and pauses. She had read something about different forms of familiar Pokemon in Alola, hadn't she? Besides, she'd probably insulted the kid enough. So she smiles. “He's cute. I like his name.”  
  
This seems to please them both. "Big brother chose it for me," the little Rattata says, as Tristan takes her hand in one of his very sticky ones. She has to fight not to shudder.  
  
It's another beautiful day, with wisps of clouds slowly inching their way across the blue sky. She breathes deep, taking in the earthy soil and hint of salty sea breeze, and smiles. Haro is content to hobble beside her, using his tail to push himself forward. When she offers to carry him he shakes his head. “Battling mode,” he explains, and Sherri relents, keeping one eye on the determined Popplio and the other on the lookout for any wayward smudges on her dress.  
  
Tristan's head only reaches her waist, but he's loud and energetic enough to seem several feet taller. He orders her about in a firm voice, using a (newly washed by Haro, at her insistence) stick to better her posture: her wrist has to be straight, and her shoulders have to be stiff. She's spent too long away from dance classes—this demanded rigidness, which once came so naturally, feels awkward now on a body used to sitting in chairs for hours on end.  
  
After two more attempts—both Caterpie, who laugh at her as they make their way back up in the trees—Tristan sighs. “Maybe you needta see it first,” Tristan says, and scrambles down from the rock he'd been using to seek out potential catches. “Cheddar, go get 'em!”  
  
It happens seamlessly: Cheddar dives into the tall grass with a sharp "C'mere!" and chases out a long golden Pokemon with sharp teeth. Sherri only just catches Haro's surprised “Yungoos!” before the “Rattata” rams straight into it. She turns her eyes from the battle to see Tristan collect himself, a readied Poke Ball in his small hand. It might be cute if it weren't slightly terrifying—his brow is furrowed in such deep concentration she wonders if he even knows she and Haro are there.  
  
Tristan cries out before throwing it, and she watches it make the perfect textbook arc as it lands squarely on the Yungoos's head. The ball clicks shut immediately. Tristan shrieks with delight as he races toward it, all composure gone.  
  
As it turns out,  _five-year-olds_  can do this  _much_  better than she can.  
  
Tristan flops down on the ground beside Haro, who nuzzles into his side to sniff at the remaining bits of ice cream, pocketing his brand new catch. “Someday I wanna be like Trainer Red,” Tristan tells her, his now-dusty fingers brushing along Haro's spine. “One time he caught a… is it Pidgey? The nice brown birdies?”  
  
Preston is doing just fine with Rothko, she tells herself. She's only going to be gone a month. “Yeah, those are Pidgey.”  
  
“Okay. But he caught one by throwing the ball straight behind him. Didn't even look!” His eyes light up. “Maybe you're tryin' too hard to catch the normal way! You gotta… you gotta do it the  _you_  way!”  
  
She doesn't have time to reply before she hears rustling in the bushes just a few feet away. Haro pulls away from Tristan's side, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Should I con- _fern_  with that opponent?” he asks, vibrating with excitement.  
  
“That—was clever,” she says, smiling. Wait, no. Focus on the battle. There's no True behind her to take the reins, no battle-tested Casey at her side to point her in the right direction. She does have Haro, who shifts impatiently at her feet as he waits for a command. “Sure. Uh, Water Gun?”  
  
The words have hardly left her mouth before Haro shoots a frothy jet of water from his—oh good, his mouth this time. The attack splashes against the ferns, seemingly harmless. But Haro's done his job.  
  
She recognizes the Pokemon as one of the same tiny birds that had found her and True just the other afternoon. Haro confirms her thoughts with a delighted "Pikipeeek!" There's a fierce gleam in this one's eyes, a wicked curl to its tiny clawed feet. It hovers just above Haro for one moment, eyes her, and dives straight for her. She's ready to jump out of the way when Haro sends another spray of water right into its chest. The tiny bird falls, winded and soaked.  
  
“Try it now!” Tristan yells behind her.  
  
Catching. Right. She holds the Poke Ball right in her hand, approaching warily. Maybe if she closes the distance…  
  
She's near enough to see the vivid blue of the bird's eye—not quite as bright as Clara's but darker, shadowed. It rolls from its back onto its feet before jumping back up in the air, cawing sharply. But it's closer than before, stable.  
  
The ball is out of her hands. It clips the Pikipek at the very edge of its unfurled wing, nowhere close to a direct hit. But it doesn't matter; echoes of its surprised cry ring in her ears even after it's absorbed in a flash of red light; the ball falls onto the ground, twitching.  
  
“Come on come on come on come on,” Haro whimpers, bent low to the ground.  
  
It stops moving for a good three seconds… and then she hears it.  _Click!_  
  
She stares at it long after Tristan and Cheddar have come to her side, jumping for joy and crying out “You did it!” It's Tristan's insistent hand on hers that pulls her back to reality, and when she looks down she's met with a gummy grin that looks strangely familiar. “Now you gotta go meet it!”  
  
Meet it. Her catch. Her  _first_  catch. Haro is already waiting at the Poke Ball, clapping his fins together. There's already a small bruise forming along the top of his head, but he doesn't seem to notice it in the excitement. “Let us see, let us see!”  
  
Thankfully the release function is the same for Alolan Poke Balls. The small Pikipek materializes from the white light and looks around, clicking its beak thoughtfully. It takes a long, good look at Haro before staring up at her, his head turned to the side so she can see straight into its big eye. It doesn't say anything.  
  
“Okay,” Sherri starts. “So. I'm your… trainer." Even the word feels strange in her mouth. " _Mew_  that's weird to say. But uh, I'm Sherri, you've already met Haro, and…”  
  
It stares blankly at her, eyes narrowed.  
  
“I'm your trainer,” she finishes lamely.  
  
The Pikipek turns to Haro and says, “What is she saying?”  
  
Her brow furrows. "I'm—"  
  
“Maybe it only knows Alolan,” Tristan says, and walks right up to the tiny bird. He speaks a few unfamiliar words and laughs as the Pikipek nods furiously.  
  
Haro chuckles nervously as he hobbles back to her. “Don't take it personally,” he says, and nuzzles her ankle. “It might take time for Pokemon to learn how you talk, but we'll teach 'em once we're teammates.”  
  
She didn't think she'd have to deal with a language barrier on top of everything else. “You can understand what I'm saying though, right?”  
  
The Popplio nods. “Some people in Alola speak both. That's how I learned, with Hala and Kukui. It helps that you talk with your eyes a lot. He'll learn too,” he says, gesturing to the Pikipek. “I think you get to name him now. That's how it works, right?”  
  
Haro had come with his own name, and Preston had picked his right out of a fashion magazine. She whistles long and low, delighted to see the tiny bird angle its head to her. The shadowed blue of his eye is what convinces her. “Wesley,” she says, and holds out her hand. After a gentle prodding from Tristan, the Pikipek springs forward and lands securely on her arm. His tiny claws go just short of puncturing the skin, but it's a comfortable weight—she'd already had her learning curve with Preston as a tiny Pidgey. “Wesley?” she asks, inclining her head.  
  
The little bird ponders this for a moment, nods, and says, “Fine.”  
  
Good enough. Her tiny smile gives way to a disbelieving laugh. If only Preston could see her now. If only True—  
  
Oh Mew. When was the last time she'd checked her watch? 10:38 stares back at her, almost accusing her. “Sh—sugar,” she amends, turning to her two  _very young_  companions. “I, uh. I have to go.”   
  
“What's wrong?” Tristan asks.  
  
“I'm meeting someone for malasadas,” she says. Tristan and Cheddar perk up, eyes wide. She glances over to Haro, who nods vigorously, and smiles shakily. “Uh, you can come with me if you want. My treat, for helping me catch Wesley?”  
  
“Yes!” Tristan says, and jumps into the air. He gasps and turns to the Rattata at his feet. “We should do this all the time, Cheddar! Get paid in malasada and… and  _ice cream!_ ”  
  
“A true entrepreneur. Businessperson,” she says, as four confused pairs of eyes turn up to her. “Okay. How far to the malasada shop by the Sunstar Hotel?"  
  
"Twenty minutes if we run!" Tristan cheers immediately, and races off with Cheddar fast on his heels.  
  
She scoops up Haro in her arms and books it. The kids are surprisingly fast and nimble, easily weaving their way through the tall grasses. A few shrieks from Wesley and potentially-explosive bubbles from Haro are enough to keep any other wild Pokemon at bay. Tristan only slows down once they get to the edge of town, panting but giggly. Sherri only manages to keep upright from sheer determination.  
  
"You're kinda slow for a grown-up," he says, and takes her hand again. This time she lets him take it, trying to slow down her thumping heart.  
  
She's starting to recognize street names and buildings—and there, a squat little building with a cheery chalkboard sign out front, is the bakery. Tristan tears open the door and cheers as he runs inside. Haro giggles in her arms and Wesley… doesn't say much of anything, really. Haro lifts his head from her shoulder to look her in the eye. “Do we get a malasada  _every_  time we catch a new teammate?”  
  
True's wallet might be able to take that, but she knows hers can't. Thankfully she's recovered enough to speak in coherent sentences. “This is a special treat,” she says. “I don't want to spoil you.” At least, too much.  
  
Wesley shifts on top of her head. “Do all humans do this?”  
  
“I've only really met a couple so far,” Haro starts. But as Sherri pulls open the bakery door, he stops and gasps.  
  
It only takes one good whiff of baked goods for her body to relax. The malasada shop is immediately inviting with its pale pink walls and pastel decorations. The immediate draw is the glass case up front, featuring baked goods in different colors and sizes. Tiny plastic cups with samples rest on the counter top, just begging to be scooped up and devoured. Tristan already has his face pressed against the glass, no doubt leaving sticky hand prints. The shopkeeper behind the display doesn't seem to mind; if anything she smiles as she bends down to talk to him, greeting him in soft Alolan. He answers back, pointing vigorously to a bright red malasada.  
  
The woman eyes Sherri, her brow raised. Sherri nods. Tristan, his hands full with his new treasure, bows to her before darting out of the shop, Cheddar only steps behind him.  
  
"I usually see him here with his brother. You're not…?"  
  
"Uh, nope. Not related. He helped me out with… something," Sherri says, and smiles. It only takes her a few moments to decide. “One… two sweet malasadas for us too, please,” Sherri says, using her free hand to dig for her wallet.  
  
The woman—Bristol, if her name tag is right—takes a long look at Sherri's debit card before smiling. “Traveling from Kanto, eh? I have family up in, ah, Pewter, I think. That's the small one on the coast with the Safari Zone, right?”  
  
She means well, Sherri tells herself, and smiles. "Fuchsia has the Safari Zone. Pewter's in the mountains. I don't get to go either place much, from Saffron.”  
  
“The big city, yeah! Someday I'd like to go there,” Bristol says, and hands her the malasadas on a gleaming white plate. “Anyway. Enjoy your malasadas!”  
  
“Thank you,” she says, and looks up to find a familiar head of red hair sitting away from her. She juggles Haro in one hand while holding the treats in the other.  
  
She'd been meaning to surprise True, maybe sneak in a quick cheek kiss; but when Haro sees Casey and True in their booth he shouts delightedly, drawing their eyes. Casey's the first one to respond, his brow furrowed and head tilted. "Why's there a bird on your head?"  
  
True turns slowly, quiet hesitation turning sharply into surprise. "You… wait, is that—"  
  
"His name's Wesley!" Haro chirps, wiggling in her arms. "And we caught him. Can we eat yet?"  
  
True is quick to relieve her of the malasadas as she slips into the booth. There's just enough room for the four—the  _five_  of them, she corrects herself. Wesley lands almost right on top of the plate, nibbling at the edges.  
  
"Don't eat them yet!" Haro whines.  
  
True immediately takes control, dividing the top malasada in half and placing them at the edge of the table. Haro jumps out of her lap to munch on his treat, and Wesley only eyes her for a moment before setting to work on his own serving. Sherri takes the second for herself, keeping one arm up on the table as a barrier from the two feasting Pokemon.  
  
 _Her_  two Pokemon. Technically. Right?  
  
It's only then that she allows herself to take a closer look at the shopping bags next to Casey, who eyes the two newcomers with something close to wariness. “Looks like you had a productive morning,” she says, and turns to face True.  
  
True clears her throat, looking almost… guilty? "We, uh… we got some supplies. Some more balls and, uh, belts. Potions."  
  
Though it takes the edge off the sharp pain in her throat, it doesn't remove it completely. "What time did you wake up?”  
  
"Not sure. Finally got out of bed around six," True says quietly. "I think I'm still adjusting to the time difference. You seemed so tired last night, I thought you might want to lie in and rest. Casey and I and when we came back…"  
  
"And I'd gone," she sighs. Somehow eating a sweet malasada seems wrong for this moment. “Haro really wanted to get out, so I… went along with him.”  
  
Haro lifts his head, blinking curiously. “Is everything okay?”  
  
“Everything's fine,” Casey says, before either of them can interject. “Go back to what you were telling me before.”  
  
True waits until the three start talking again, but doesn't meet her eye. "I'm not mad, just… This is going to be a bit harder than we thought, huh?"  
  
Sherri chuckles. "Maybe more than a bit. Worth it, though." Nothing short of relief floods through True, who loosens her posture and reaches for her hand under the table. Sherri grabs it with a smile. “We just have to work a few things out. Plan in advance.”  
  
“I can do that,” True says, and smiles.  
  
Their grip on each other is loose as they tuck into their malasadas. Though she doesn't turn to them, she does try and listen in on the low conversation being held by the three Pokemon on the other side of the table. She's not quite able to make out all the words, which doesn't quite concern her yet. What catches her eye is Casey, who eyes Sherri with a furrowed brow.  
  
Their eyes meet for a moment. He's the one to break away with a sigh, brushing crumbs off his own chin. "We didn't have to meet Kukui for another few hours, right?"  
  
“It's about 11:30 now,” True says, looking over Sherri's head. Her watch confirms the time. The two meet eyes, and True grins. "You up for a little more exploring? I think Casey and I might have found a new route. You could… show me what you learned?"  
  
"I'll need a minute to cool off from that run," she says, and drains the cup of water in front of True. It's lukewarm and earthy, but right now it's the best drink in the world. She comes up for air with a sigh and turns to True with a smile. "But yeah, that'd be nice."  
  
"I hope you have more supplies,” a low voice calls. It takes her a moment to identify it as Wesley's. “You were on your last ball when you caught me."  
  
"Last... Hala gave us five," True says slowly, and turns to Sherri with a cocked brow. "What happened?"  
  
Sherri winces. "Uh… long story?"  
  
“Good thing I bought more balls, then.” True grins and squeezes her hand. "We have a few hours. Tell me all about it on the way."


	5. Chapter Four

"I think Makuhita are considered local Pokemon," True says, as Route 2's dirt path transitions to Hau'oli's concrete. "Do you remember that in your reading?"  
  
Sherri shrugs and turns her head, careful not to disturb Wesley snoozing in her hair. Truthfully she hadn't done much of the reading—she might have glanced over a few overviews of the four different islands, and had  _maybe_  spent more than a few seconds pondering over the reasoning of there only being Alolan forms for Kanto-native Pokemon. "Ours looks kind of cute though."  
  
True had been the one to engage the Makuhita, completely at home with the ebb and flow of battle and catching him with one precise, practiced throw. But Sherri had insisted on naming him—Buck, for the way he'd tried to jump in the air and throw his fists up to catch their wily Pikipek. He walks beside her now, a little worn but otherwise content to shuffle along at a slow pace. She's only seen Makuhita on TV before, in reruns of old Hoenn battles that Kanto Battle Network might show off in primetime schedules, but they all had… emoted? It's not the perfect word, but she's somewhat unnerved by the blank stoicism in Buck's face as he shuffles beside her, eyes focused on the road ahead.  
  
"Maybe we'll ask Professor Kukui," True says, and grabs her hand. "I know he's more of a Pokemon moves specialist but he should know about the local populations. Especially here on Melemele."  
  
Whirlwind. Extremespeed. "That's… that's why he makes the puns, isn't it," she says slowly.  
  
Haro laughs from her arms, turning his head from her shoulder to meet her eyes. "He likes to make people laugh so they don't think he's as smart as he is. But I think it makes him seem even  _smarter_."  
  
"That's silly," Casey says, his legs splayed along the top of True's backpack.  
  
"His wife tells him that too," Haro says. "But not a lot, and not very… like she means it?"  
  
"Convincingly."  
  
Haro shrugs. "Anyway, it makes people happy and that's the most important thing. We're gonna go to his house now, right?"  
  
True smiles. "First we're going to heal everyone up at the Pokemon Center. Then we'll head over to Kukui's."  
  
She feels Wesley fidget on top of her head, hears his feathers rustling as he disembarks to flutter between herself and True. "Where're we going?" he asks Haro.  
  
The Popplio is only too quick to respond, pulling away from their conversation only to point her and True in the right direction—"just keep going straight until you see the big red building, like in the other places!"  
  
The crowd seems to appear out of nowhere, streaming around them in their parade of ill-fitting tourist shirts and flowing sundresses. Loose pants and flowing bottoms seem to be the style here, varying between pale pastels and eye-popping jewel tones. Maybe to stick out against the vibrant blues and greens of the scenery around them? There are plenty of floppy sun hats and sunglasses to match, too. There must be a shop—  
  
True pulls her out of her thoughts with a quick squeeze to her hand. "Having fun observing?"  
  
"There's more to different regions than just their local Pokemon populations," Sherri teases. "Even between different cities, it's… actually kind of fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot without speaking to many people."  
  
She's said that to exes before, to be rewarded with eye rolls and "you're so weird"s. True's tiny laugh is thoughtful, like she's rolling that observation in her head and examining it. "What's the highlight so far?"  
  
"That we need to get more sunscreen if we don't get hats," she says, to True's surprised laughter. "Probably both. But then I have to remember that this is the big tourist attraction, right? Maybe things'll be different the further out we go."  
  
They don't find the Pokemon Center so much as they stumble into it—the large corner building looks like it's been ripped out of Kanto, the same basic shapes with the same bright red roof. "Someone remodeled it a while ago so tourists could find their way here easily," Haro says, and Sherri frowns. When they step inside they're greeted by green and growing things everywhere, hanging in baskets along the glass windows and shooting up in huge pots by the main desk. But her eye is immediately drawn to the dark left corner, with its neon lights flashing "CAFÉ."  
  
"Caffeine," Sherri whimpers.  
  
"I'll check these guys in for a quick heal and then meet you there," True says. "Lemonade for me?"  
  
Sherri's the first to pull out of line, and claims one of the dark circular tables with plush chairs. Most of the time she'll settle for a drip, but the malasada from earlier has her craving sugar. Her mocha is loaded with it but screw it, she's on vacation. She doesn't even bother playing coy, enjoying her long drags of chocolate and coffee. She's almost half done when True finally settles into her seat, somewhat exasperated. "Something up?"  
  
"Something about my ID and their systems. Which I guess makes sense, my League ID is probably different than the local cards they give trainers here." True sips leisurely at her lemonade while Sherri takes long, desperate drags from her iced mocha. Only now that they've stopped moving can she feel her legs throbbing. She has half a mind to kick off her shoes too, and takes a moment to thank her past self for those morning walks to work to break in these walking sandals.  
  
"Wasn't Kukui supposed to take care of that?"  
  
"We'll find out when we talk to him, I suppose. But I figure after that, we can take the rest of the night off? There's one place I wanted to check out. It, uh… we might be working, but we can still have fun, right?"  
  
Sherri pulls up from her mocha, her heart thrumming. "Unrelated to training?" True nods. After a pause Sherri asks, "Just the two of us?"  
  
True smiles.  
  
She still hasn't forgotten Casey's look in the malasada shop—and even yesterday, while they were waiting for Kukui to go to Iki Town. She knows that he's an important piece of True, knows that there's very little room to separate the two of them, and yet… "Is everything alright with Casey?"  
  
And Mew, she wishes she hadn't asked it; True's face falls, her shoulders tighten, and for a moment she looks back over to the main desk. "I guess he thought this was going to be more vacation and less work. Like, maybe we'd talk for a few days with some people, but… It's fine. He'll be fine," she says, like she's trying to convince herself.  
  
"Did you really go out this morning to get supplies?"  
  
She sighs. "I mean we did, but… mostly it was to talk with him. We worked most of it out, and I think once we're on the road things'll settle."  
  
That satisfies her. She takes another glance around the room—mostly young men and women talking intensely with each other, with a few people bending into books and newspapers—and smiles. The table is small enough that she can reach out to brush her aching foot against True's shoe, a subtle enough gesture.  
  
It's enough, if True's watery smile is anything to go by.  
  
Sherri's mocha is gone with just a few more gulps; she spends the rest of their waiting time watching True sip at her lemonade, playing casual footsie with her girlfriend, and people watching. The teenagers and young adults capture the bulk of her attention—many of them have island challenge amulets strapped onto their backpacks or even made into bracelets and necklaces. Bermuda shorts, ruffled tops, browns and greens and oranges accented with white. Sturdy sandals, all of them.  
  
A woman on the intercom calls out a number. True stands, offering a hand. "Next stop, Kukui's?"  
  
They decide to keep Buck and Wesley in their balls with the way the crowds are going. Haro insists on walking beside them this time, but she's seen too many small Pokemon nearly trampled in Saffron to keep him anywhere but inside his ball or her arms. He keeps quiet for most of the way, shifting his head back and forth as people pass by. They walk south, past trees nearly bending with Pikipek and bright yellow birds, to walk along Hau'oli's coastline. She has to look past the crowds and blankets and sun umbrellas to see the golden sand and the frothing water; even from here she can hear delighted shouts of surfers catching waves, and young children spraying their Pokemon with the sea.  
  
It makes her realize how much she's  _missed_  having daily access to the sea. As much as she loves the hustle-and-bustle of Saffron, she's missed lunch breaks with her feet in the spray. "I wonder if the beach is always that crowded," she muses.  
  
"I asked the receptionist at the hotel, she says it doesn't get empty until the middle of the night." True smiles. "But we'll see."  
  
There seems to be a huge cluster of people on the eastern bank; from here she can hear the hard baseline and high vocals. From the corner of her eye she sees Casey lean forward, his face knit in tight concentration.  
  
"People play music on the beach all the time," Haro says, and blinks up at her with confusion. "But most of the time it's, you know, happier."  
  
"Will we be late for the professor if we stop?” Casey asks.  
  
Her watch implies no—it's 2:05, and they can probably make it if they pick up the pace a bit. Still, Sherri's eye is still drawn to that crowd. She's seen more than her fair share of buskers—musicians and Contest hopefuls saving for passage to Hoenn and their contest circuit. But the closer they come to the shoreline the more clearly she can listen to the music: it's loud and sharp and maybe even  _angry_ , like the old records she used to listen to as a teenager. It's only because they're high above the beach that she sees the performers, dressed in black and standing on a bright blue blanket. The lead singer is absolutely shredding it on a red electric guitar plugged into a small amp, singing at the top of his lungs. The girl behind him is just as wild, almost flailing as she plays, but somehow the white handkerchief tied around her mouth doesn't go flying off.  
  
"Oh," Haro says. "I thought it was gonna be someone famous. That's just Team Skull."  
  
True pauses at the mention of a "Team," her mouth going hard. "Who're they?"  
  
A woman passes them, scorn almost painted onto her perfectly made face. "Rabble-rousers," she scoffs. "Petty thieves, vandals, local annoyances. Take your pick. Taking advantage of tourist season, as expected."  
  
"Looks like they're just playing music right now," Sherri says softly.   
  
But even as she looks she can see dark figures skirting through the crowd like Carvanha, picking through the enraptured crowd. It's a law of city life: where there are buskers there are always opportunists, their quick fingers plucking valuables from open purses or money from unattended wallets. These kids aren't the best they've seen, but they must be good enough; judging by their similar outfits, they must all be on the same team.  
  
Disappointment stings in the back of her throat. "You think we should go get the police?" she asks, turning to True.  
  
But she's talking to empty air: True is already heading down the staircase, Casey sparking on her shoulder.  
  
"Ilima should be heading out of classes by now," the woman says, and turns without another word.  
  
She's stunned to inaction for a few moments; it takes Haro jumping out of her arms to spur her forward. Sherri's legs might be long but True has a head start. Haro doesn't rush down the stairs so much as hobble awkwardly, landing every two steps with a loud "ahh!" before finally hitting the sand. By the time she and Haro have both touched semi-solid ground, the crowd has turned away from the performers to True and Casey.  
  
"…just playin' a bit of music, girl!" the lead singer says. "Relax. Be one with the waves or some… or some!"  
  
"Yeah," his partner cries, "or some sh—!"  
  
Lead Singer shushes loudly into the mic, and it might have been funny if he wasn't hobbling on the balls of his feet like the floor was lava. "—Shinx! They're cute!" And then quieter, fiercer: "Lazer, there're kiddos here. Watch yer mouth."  
  
"Watch my  _fist_ , Cannonball, I swear to fu—"  
  
" _Fuuuuun in the sun!_  Gotta give praise to… uh, what Pokemon brings the sun again. Does anyone in the audience know?!"  
  
No wonder Haro was so flippant; if she hadn't noticed the pickpocketing she wouldn't have thought anything more about these Team Skull people than "they're well-meaning idiots. Oops, my lunch break's over, time to go." The crowd doesn't answer him, now beginning to notice their stolen goods and crying out in alarm.  
  
"There they are!" someone shouts, and that's when she notices Casey herding the black-clothed criminals away from the main crowd. She looks down to see Haro has disappeared—and then she notices him standing in front of True, blowing bubbles that float silently between them and Team Skull.  
  
She huffs and walks toward them. "You kids done having your fun?" she asks, pulling up to True.  
  
"We didn't even steal," one of them begins, but his companion kicks his ankle. He shuts up, eyes watering.  
  
True is less than amused, her eyes narrowed and lip curled as she stands straight. It's usually more intimidating with an angry Charizard behind her, instead of a Popplio with bubbles coming out… of his nose. Oh, Arceus.  
  
"Hey, it's fine! It's cool," the guy at the mic says. True and Haro don't turn to face him, but Sherri does. He already has his guitar slung over his shoulder and a tiny, well-worn amp in his hands. "We're headin' out, just don't hurt anyone, 'kay?"  
  
Strange behavior for "vandals." Her own eyes narrow. But before she can say anything, a firm voice calls out, "Then you'd best be on your way."  
  
The crowd almost seems to part as a tall, androgynous figure with meticulously-styled pink hair walks forward. The stranger reminds her of some of the actors she's worked with: high cheekbones, sparkling blue eyes, a quietly confident smile. She's surprised by the brown-and-pink sweater vest, considering the heat, but maybe it just looks like argyle.   
  
"Aww man, the fuzzy fuzz," Cannonball whines, then straightens. "We're just making music, dude. And everyone got their stuff back, yeah? So no harm done!"  
  
The newcomer sighs. "I'll give you until the count of five."  
  
It's a tactic she's only seen work on five-year-olds, but before her very eyes the Team Skull kids begin walking away from the pop-up concert. Again she turns to watch the one called Lazer shove Cannonball onto the sand and pick up the fallen amp. She swears she sees Cannonball meet her eyes before following her, sand staining his white shorts.  
  
"I guess they really got the beat, huh?" Haro asks, stirring her out of her thoughts again.  
  
It takes her a second to register the pun, but when she does she laughs. "They sure did, with your help. Good job."  
  
"At least everyone got their stuff back," True says beside her, still frowning. "You okay?"  
  
She isn't sure. On the one hand, her mind is still reeling from the Team Skull shenanigans. On the other, she hadn't been the one to do… well, much of anything, really. "Fine," she says, and checks her watch. 2:30. "But we better get going, or we'll miss Kukui."  
  
"You have a meeting with the professor?" Sherri lifts her eyes to see the pink-haired stranger approach. and greet them with one circular motion. She’s seen this before--maybe it’s a kind of Alolan custom? "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. I'm Captain Ilima."  
  
True introduces herself with a bow. "And this is Casey, Haro, and Sherri."  
  
"I appreciate your help with Team Skull. They usually aren't so bold to try thievery in broad daylight. I'd be pleased to assist you now, if you'd like."  
  
True glances over at her, a silent question flickering in her eyes. She shrugs. "S'fine with me, if it's not too much trouble for you."  
  
"No trouble at all; consider it a 'thank you' for your assistance. Although… none of you get seasick, correct?"  
  
Sherri gulps.  
  


* * *

  
"And you were afraid of getting on my boat!" Kukui laughs, as three Lapras pull up to shore. "Alola's going to make a traveler out of you yet, Sherri!"  
  
It will take a long,  _long_  time. She's probably left her stomach back in Hau'oli, but something about being around a stranger makes her performative. "It was fine," she says weakly, taking deliberate care to anchor herself with each step so she doesn't fall into the surf. She's already shrugged off True's attempt to steady her, because she doesn't care how nice Ilima is, she's  _stubborn_  and maybe she wants to show off a bit. The wet sand holds her well enough, hard clumps filling the spaces between her exposed toes. She considers the fact that she hasn't landed on her face a small victory.  
  
"Some food'll perk you right back up," Kukui says, and  _Mew_  she could go without that knowing chuckle. "I've got fixings for burgers if you don't mind having a working lunch—you guys and Ilima, if they're interested."  
  
The pronoun catches her attention. It's True, who hopped off her Lapras like it's a secret art form and perfectly composed on solid ground, who turns to Ilima and says, "A thank you for your assistance."  
  
Now that her world has stopped spinning so outrageously, she turns to Ilima. But despite the genial smile Ilima shakes their head, replying with a soft, "I actually have to prepare for a challenger tonight. I'd forgotten how… spirited Hala's grandson could be."  
  
The one with the Pichu, Sherri remembers, and the green hair. Wait, no, don't think about green right now. "Do you have to make appointments for trials?" Not even a pause.  _Go Sherri._  
  
"They're appreciated," Ilima says, and looks down to her damp backpack. They must see the amulet hanging off one zipper; it would explain the slight widening of their eyes. "I didn't realize you were a challenger. I suppose I'll be seeing you sometime soon?"  
  
"Hopefully sooner than soon," Kukui says. "True and Sherri are the ones I was tellin' you about, remember?"  
  
"The gym leader and her girlfriend," they whisper. "Of course, my apologies. We weren't supposed to meet everyone together, were we?"  
  
"Right now we're just going around Alola, experiencing the trials," Sherri says.  
  
True nods. "But we're going to be here for a while, so…"  
  
"The professor has my number whenever you're ready to schedule a trial," Ilima says, and makes that same circular motion. "Next time, then. Alola!"  
  
Kukui returns the gesture, and yep, that’s definitely significant. He waits to watch Ilima climb onto their Lapras and sail away before turning to True and Sherri with an excited clap. "Alright. Burgers? I've got Tauros, a little bit of tofu…"  
  
Maybe she's been spending too much time around Oak's residence, which was more lab than home. Kukui's seaside shack is more home than lab, weather worn just like his boat. Part of her is expecting the inside to be the same, but she's surprised by the orderly openness of it: large paintings of Pokemon showing off spectacularly flashy moves dominate the warm yellow-white walls, eye-grabbing even when tucked in between bookshelves filled to bursting. There's enough space here for Jackson and Britt to sprawl out comfortably; it's almost cavernous. For a moment she's tempted to throw her arms out and spin around.  
  
"Take a seat anywhere, yeah, these'll only take a few moments."  
  
Three bursts of light answer him: Haro, Wesley, and Buck all emerge with varying degrees of excitement and confusion. Buck and Wesley especially seem unnerved by the four walls. Haro is quick to reassure them, that "This is just a human den, and it's a lot of fun!" before turning to the TV and the line of DVDs there. Casey places his guitar right inside True's large backpack before going over to supervise, leaving True and Sherri to ease into the green-seated booth inside the kitchen.  
  
"I see you caught yourself a Makuhita," Kukui says over sizzling meat. "That'll be great for Ilima's trial."  
  
"Trial captains are like gym leaders, right?" True says.  
  
It's good chatter, and she's sure if she weren't exhausted she'd be listening intently. Instead she turns to the four Pokemon at the TV stand, watching with one hand on her cheek. Even if she wasn't too lazy to grab her sketchpad from her bag, there probably isn't enough time to draw them. But it's a cute scene, watching Haro try to read movie titles and Casey gently correcting him.  
  
Wesley must tire of it, because he flies over to rest on the table in front of her. His eyes are blue and wide as they meet hers. She smiles. "Having fun?" she asks.  
  
The Pikipek tilts his head.  
  
Language barrier, right. "You know who I am, right? Sherri?"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
"Ah… hm." She points to him. "Wesley." And then to herself. "Sherri."  
  
"Sherri," he repeats. "You?"  
  
She smiles. "Right. That's True," she says, pointing over to her girlfriend.  
  
The Pikipek follows her gesture, takes in True for a moment, then nods. "She's our trainer."  
  
True, who has pulled away from her conversation with Kukui, shakes her head. "Both of us," she says gently. "We're both your trainers."  
  
Wesley turns to Haro, eyes slightly narrowed. It's an eerie expression for a bird with such big eyes. "I thought you could only have one at a time."  
  
But it's Casey who responds, stepping away from the TV. "It's a little complicated, with us. Just follow whoever's sent you out to battle."  
  
"Is that a foreigner thing?"  
  
Casey sighs. "It's a 'go with the flow' kind of thing, okay?"  
  
By now the smell of spiced burgers has filled the living room; Sherri's mouth is watering enough for her to spray her own Water Gun. Kukui leans over to them, his smile pinched. "That's something we're gonna talk about today, right? Now I can either connect this account to yours, True, just so you only have to remember one number. You won't get as many features though, because I'd have to call Bill all the way over in Kanto and he and I… uh, aren't really on speaking terms?"  
  
True's eyes go wide. "Bill's the nicest person I've met, how did you…"  
  
"I may have accidentally fused him with his Clefairy? We got him back to normal!" he says. True sputters; Sherri, who has never met Bill but can't help imagining a Clefairy with his wild mess of hair, laughs. "He was having trouble with this machine at his place and Pasta got a little too friendly with some buttons so... that happened."  
  
Pasta is obviously a name but that's the only piece of information in that whole… thing that she can wrap her head around. Kukui offers no further clarification, turning his back to briefly place a slice of cheese on each burger. "So we can either do that,  _or_  we can set up a whole new account. Just depends on who wants to fill out all the forms and be the head honcho."  
  
Sherri turns to True, brow quirked. True nods, turning to Kukui. "Can both of us access the account?"  
  
"Yeah, all you need's the password. You just can't have more than six Pokemon out of the boxes between the two of you, otherwise the system will glitch out."  
  
Recognition flashes in True's eyes. "Hau'oli's Pokemon Center did the same thing when I was down there earlier today. I thought my League card would have been enough."  
  
"…That was the thing I was forgetting to do. Swear if I were a Pokemon I'd have Amnesia in my move set. I can get that fixed if you're adamant on keeping your account."  
  
Sherri clears her throat. "And if we, uh, wanted to move everything to a new account?"  
  
"Well if you’re just moving Casey, it’s a simple transfer. And since the both of you'll be together, it won't make too much of a difference anyway." Kukui smiles. "We can have everything done in an hour, shiny new card and all."  
  
True turns to her, eyes gentle. "Haro chose  _you_. I think that means something, you know?"  
  
It's one thing to accept a starter Pokemon; it's another thing entirely to get a trainer's license and catch Pokemon of her own. This is what she wanted, right, a chance for a big adventure of her own? Instead of answering True, she turns her head to eyes Casey—only to find him already staring up at her. She doesn't have the connection with him that True has, has no idea what he's thinking behind those big brown eyes. "It's only a formality," she says, because somehow she still feels like she has to explain herself to Casey.  
  
He stares, and she stares back, stricken yet again by how stubbornly human he seems. And finally, after Buck has finally come over from the DVD case to see what's happening, Casey sighs and nods. "If it'll make things easier, I'm fine with it."  
  
"Then that's that! There'll just be a few forms you have to sign, Sherri, nothing major. But first," he says, as he removes a large skillet from the grill. "Lunch time! Hope you all brought your appetites!"


	6. Chapter Five

The day before she had left for Saffron, Sherri had gone out to Vermilion Pier and watched the sea. She remembers it clearly: the full moon sparkling along the dark waters, the teenagers hoping to score first kisses on the shore, the overeager fishers setting their traps for the night. The city had glowed golden behind her, throwing the shadows from passing tourists into the depths. Preston had perched beside her on the thin metal railing, silently watching for a star to poke out of the smoggy skies. He had turned to her, his gray-green eyes twinkling, and asked if this was what she'd really wanted.  
  
"You don't think I should do it?" she'd asked him.  
  
"I think we have a good thing going here," he'd replied, and shuffled his stance. "And… you don't have anything to prove by going."  
  
In Vermilion she had been just one of dozens of tailors and seamstresses. In Silph Tower she could be  _important_. She hadn't told Preston this but she hadn’t needed to; he'd known, just by looking looking her. She remembers his soft little sigh and the shake of his tiny head when he'd told her, "You're kind of a thrill-seeker, you know that?"  
  
She'd denied it at the time, had denied it after Team Rocket had fallen and they had settled permanently in Saffron with the money she'd received from the Kanto League. But maybe now, with the Alolan skies burning bright with the sunrise, she can admit he's right.  
  
It only takes them an hour to hike from Hau'oli to the small Pokemon Center. The sea waits for them at the crest of the low-sloping hill, sparkling blue and gold and red. Even now there are trainers picking their way through the long grass, or stumbling out of the smallest Pokemon Center she's ever seen with cups of coffee held tightly in their dark hands. She used to make fun of those people—couldn't training wait until a proper breakfast, a little more light?—and even now hasn't quite come to terms with the fact that she is one of them.  
  
She could tell herself that she'll climb right back into bed once they return to the city and not wake up until they have to leave for True's meeting with Hala back in Iki Town, but even that seems like a hollow promise when she looks out past the thin white fence marking the Pokemon Center property. The tiny camera she'd bought from an electronics shop in Hau'oli does its job well enough for her purposes: she points and shoots at the flowers dancing in the sea-tinted wind, at the shadows of bird Pokemon hovering over the bare mountain trail just a mile away.  
  
Two days of minimal traipsing around the island have healed her achy legs, and an extra-strong hot mocha and the salt-tinted wind invigorate her. If there was a day and a place for her to do something wildly out of character, this would be it.  
  
Casey isn't so energized. He sleeps fitfully in True's arms, sensing no danger. True, however, is wide-awake, pressing her shoulder against Sherri's. The crisp morning air has stolen most of its normal warmth, but there's still a smidgen left to be saved in Sherri's palm. She's oddly quiet when she asks, "You're sure you want to do this?"  
  
The way the sun is spreading across the sky, she feels able to do anything. "You'll look at this all from a gym leader's perspective," Sherri says. "If we're going to make a fair decision, we need two sides. That's where I come in."  
  
"I know, but—"  
  
"No buts," Sherri says. She snaps a quick picture of a Mankey sprinting through wildflowers, takes a quick look at Casey snoozing in True's arms, and then meets her girlfriend's eyes. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"Of course I do," True says immediately, her eyes going round. "It's just… I don't know. I get protective, sometimes."  
  
" _Sometimes_?"  
  
True chuckles, looking back out to the sunrise. "I just… watch a lot of trainers get their start in my gym, you know? And I don't know, it's just… it’s different when it's someone I know really well. Someone I love." She squeezes Sherri's hand tighter.  
  
Funny—it's her heart that feels the squeeze, instead of her palm. "Well. You  _did_  oversee my training the past few days. And I think I remember you saying something about how I defied your expectations."  
  
True's eyes go wide. "Just because you've never really—"  
  
"Trained before? Now I have," Sherri says. The words sound firmer on her tongue than they had in her head. She takes a deep breath and lifts her head, wishing for the added height of her heels. She doesn't feel intimidating in gripped sneakers. "Our team is good. And you heard Ilima on the phone, you and Casey will be around in case anything goes wrong." She doesn't add,  _which it won't_ , because she's grown up watching Kanto battles and knows better. "So just. Have a little faith, yeah?"  
  
She takes a quick look around before pressing a firm kiss to Sherri's temple. "I always have faith in you," True says.  
  
The Mankey she'd been photographing has vanished, maybe scared away by their sharp voices or the young teenagers poking their way through the tall grass. The Pokemon Center sold packed lunches in their tiny Mart; maybe she'll splurge a little bit, buy a good meal and have a picnic with the crew. The pamphlets in the hotel had said something about a  _Melemele Meadow_  somewhere around the trial site—she’ll have to ask Ilima once everything’s over.  
  
"Think're here," Casey murmurs, attempting to blink away sleep as he points behind them. Sherri turns to see Ilima coming up the smooth-dirt path, their hands in khaki slacks and a Smeargle at their heels. Sherri, True, and Casey follow them to a pair of painted wooden posts, framed against the opening to a cavern. Outside of the sun's direct light, she feels cold. Not even True's body beside her can warm her up. "Knew I should've brought that cardigan," she whispers.  
  
"Wanna borrow mine?" True asks.  
  
"You'll feel warmer once you're in the heat of the trial," Ilima says, fiddling with the thick white bracelet at their wrist. "I'm glad you two could make it. Do you feel prepared?"  
  
It's hard to answer that when she isn't sure what she should have been preparing  _for_. But she has faith in Haro and Wesley and Buck, who wait for her commands inside the balls on her belt. "I guess we'll find out."  
  
Ilima nods. "True and I will stay outside the cave. Toulouse will keep an eye on you, just in case you need assistance—the trial is perfectly safe," Ilima says, as Sherri's eyes go wide, "just consider it insurance. Though with someone of your training, I'm sure you'll do well."  
  
Two days of training in a Pokemon Center fitness room. No, shut that negativity out. She needs to be focused and positive. Hadn't she just told True she could handle this? "How will I know I've beaten the trial?"  
  
"Oh, I imagine you won't have any trouble knowing." The gleam in Ilima's eyes seems too mischievous for their otherwise carefully-crafted appearance. "Best of luck, Sherri Frasier."  
She turns to True, meeting her eyes. "I've got this."  
  
True nods. "See you when you're done."  
  
She eyes Casey, who seems much more awake now. "Just focus."  
  
Focus. She's a seamstress, for Mew's sake—she knows how to focus.  
  
The first thing she thinks is that this is far too open for a cavern; she's used to Diglett's Cave, where the tunnels are long, narrow, too dark to go without a flashlight. There’s light in here, dribbling in from an opening high above her head, but her eye is drawn more to the moss hugging every vertical wall, casting an odd green glow. Not even a few days in Alola has made her accustomed to the smell of so much green—in Saffron she's more accustomed to the smell of smoke, maybe a strong breeze from the south if they're lucky. She takes a deep, greedy breath in, waiting to feel a telltale tickle in the back of her throat. Nothing happens. Minutes pass as she lets her eyes adjust to the darkness; no shuffling feet, no flashing eyes, no voice booming from above or around or behind. She's alone.  
  
But that's not right, she tells herself—she has Haro, Wesley, and Buck, resting in their balls on her belt. Her shoulders and arms feel naked without them here. Does she release them now? Does she wait for an opponent to jump out and attack her?  _Focus_ , she tells herself, and forces a deep breath. "Little kids do these island trials," she tells herself. "You caught Wesley, and Haro chose  _you_."  
  
She releases them both on impulse, watching them materialize from the white light. Haro, looking more green than blue, shakes his head back and forth to take the place in, while Wesley hops a few paces away from her. "We're at the trial already?"  
  
"Yeah," Sherri says, and looks up. "So, uh, so stay alert."  
  
Wesley leaps up into the air, his narrowed eyes sharp with tempered excitement. "Wild Pokemon aren't allowed in here without trainers on their island challenges. I want to soak every moment of this in."  
  
"It's going to be fun!" Haro shouts. She’s waiting for that tell-tale echo to ring in her ears, but none comes; maybe it’s been absorbed by the moss. He must notice it too, from the crease in his brow. "So… what, we just wait for—”  
  
The dark figure slams into Haro before he can finish his sentence, darting back into the bushes before any of them can react. She might have felt alone before this but she doesn't know: her skin prickles with the knowledge that she's being watched. There are eyes on her shoulders, at the back of her neck, even on her ankles. "What the fuck was that?" she hisses, trying to find signs of her attacker in the darkness.  
  
This time she hears the ferns rustling before the same dark shadow attacks. Wesley is already diving for it before she can summon words; he pulls up just before colliding with the ground, leaving scrapes from his talons on the stone. He doesn't pick up height or speed at first, and that's when she recognizes their attacker: the Alolan Rattata, practically Cheddar's clone, clawing its way on top of Wesley's back and gnawing at his bright red crest of feathers.  
  
"F—Wesley, shake that thing off! Uh, Supersonic!"  
  
Haro covers his small ears just before Wesley starts screeching, and she thinks again that a little bird should not be capable of making so much noise. Just the sound of it is enough to startle the Rattata into letting go. It lands right on its feet, buck teeth exposed and red eyes narrowed. The Supersonic echoes long after Wesley stops crying out, but she's focused on Wesley's wings turning bright white.  
  
She grins. "Rock Smash."  
  
Wesley dives after it, striking the Rattata on the head with a firm blow from his wing. The Rattata screeches in pain and dives for the stone den, immediately swallowed by darkness.  
  
She lets a few moments pass before sighing. "Good job, Wes," Sherri says. She reaches over to pull a purple bottle out of her bag, and holds it out to him. "Ah… okay. Potion?"  
  
Wesley stares at the bottle, looks back up at her, and growls. "I didn't get hurt."  
  
She takes a closer look at him: he's definitely dusty, and his crest is no longer sleek and structured behind him. But he's flying alright, his wingbeats even and measured. If anything his eyes seem brighter, lit with adrenaline. She places the potion in her backpack's closest pocket, just in case. "But if you…"  
  
Wesley turns away from her, plucking at loose feathers. She sighs, looking down at Haro. His eyes and smile are both wide and welcoming as he looks up at her, tail pounding rhythmically against the ground. "So what do we do now?"  
  
She fingers Buck's ball for a moment, then pauses. Strong trainers always leave at least one healthy Pokemon in reserve for the final match. And she still doesn't have an idea of what else is in this cavern—birds in the trees, or ground-type Pokemon digging in the dirt. Buck's ball remains heavy on her belt, close enough to grab and throw. She turns to Wesley and Haro with a firm nod. "I guess we just… keep waiting to get mobbed."  
  
Haro nods seriously, and begins blowing Wesley sized bubbles. They float around the trio aimlessly, refracting light. Wesley takes one look at them and huffs, perching on a small mossy rock jutting from the closest cave wall. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Getting ready," Haro says seriously, blowing another bubble.  
  
"You're going to fight this trial with bubbles," Wesley asks, deadpanned.  
  
Maybe next time she would train everyone together. “Leave him alone, Wes. It’s his talent.”  
  
Haro takes a moment to bask in her praise before going to back to work. Sherri is left to scan her surroundings, very aware of Wesley scoffing above her.  
  
There’s only a second’s warning between the ferns rattling and the second Rattata jumping out, but it’s a second more than last time. Her heart isn't beating as quickly as she turns to it, shouting, "Just like training, Haro! Uh, Bubble!”  
  
She’s positive that the only thing that keeps him upright on his tail is determination. There's a bright gleam in his eyes as his chest swells and he begins to sing, waving his flippers like a conductor. If this weren't a battle she'd be applauding. She watches as the bubbles that had been harmlessly floating in the empty cavern come together to capture the Rattata. It hovers several feet above them, clawing and hissing furiously in its watery trap.  
  
Wesley growls low above her. “Now?”  
  
“Wait,” Sherri says. “Haro, use that—that shrieking thing again!”  
  
There’s a distinctly pinkish tint to the air as Haro screams a loud, off-color note, clapping his flippers together. The bubble shatters and the Rattata falls, landing on the damp ground with a grunt.  
  
“Now, Wesley. Rock Smash!”  
  
The Rattata is too disoriented to avoid the brunt of the attack. Wesley crashes his glowing wings right into its side. She winces as it screeches with pain, teeth grating as its little nails scrape the stone floor. Wesley doesn’t pursue it, but lands back on the ground with his head held high. “That’s two.”  
  
“Guess we really soaked it to ‘em,” Haro says.  
  
Wesley blinks. “Soaked… what?”  
  
“You know. Sock it to ‘em? But  _soak_  it to ‘em? Because… I got him wet?”  
  
“What’s sock it to ‘em?”  
  
“It’s an expression,” Sherri says, but that only seems to confuse Wesley more. “Uh, it doesn’t matter. You both did great.  _Great_ ,” she says, showing them two thumbs up.  
  
“I could’ve gotten it by myself,” Wesley says, and turns away.  
  
She hadn't spoken fast enough—though he nods firmly, some of the light has gone from Haro's eyes. She'll have to talk with Wesley after this is all done. Damn. Sherri extends her hand out to the Popplio, who butts into her palm. “You were great out there. You know that, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Haro says, looking down to the ground. “Wesley’s just bein’ mean.”  
  
It takes her a moment to find the right word. “Wesley’s… proud,” she finally decides. “It doesn’t make what he says okay. I’m going to talk to him.” Somehow. They have to cross the language barrier at some point, right?  
  
“Thanks for stickin’ up for me,” Haro says.  
  
“Couldn’t  _leaf_  a ‘mon behind, right?” she says, and Haro beams.  
  
It’s a sudden change—light floods in from what must be another opening, drenching the cavern in light. The moss had turned almost emerald green, and when Wesley flutters closer to her his feathers glint navy. The shadows deep even darker now, juxtaposed with the bright green and the warm brown-gray stone. She turns her head to a once-shadowed part of the cavern and is surprised to see something staring back at her: another wooden pillar, just like the ones outside the cavern entrance. Something gleams from it.  
  
"We did it!" Wesley shouts, and flies toward the pillar. There's no use pulling him back, so she walks toward it, still trying to force shapes to solidify with rapid blinks. As she moves closer she notices the familiar painted triangles along the sides, purple and red and pink and yellow. She lowers her backpack and holds the amulet to the pillar; almost identical, down to the brushstrokes and the very wood itself.  
  
"This seems too easy," she muses to herself.  
  
Wesley has no concern, and lands on top. He bends his head into the opening just beneath his talons, and calls out, "There's treasure here!"  
  
"Bring it here, Wes," she says, holding her hand out expectantly. Though he's slow to respond, he finally does bend down to pluck something from its depths. She looks down at it—almost peach in coloring, with a symbol emblazoned just beneath the surface, and gleaming in the new light.  
  
"Lemme see!" Haro says, and Sherri bends down to show it to him.  
  
She feels the eyes on her again just as a shadow masks Haro's excited face. He looks up in alarm, crying out "Look out!" as he bashes into her legs. They tumble down together, Sherri's head knocking against the pillar. The pain isn't sharp but it surprises her; she blames this for the slight watering of her eyes as she looks up.  
  
The dark shape before her is  _massive_ , towering over her with its huge whiskers twitching menacingly. Red light dances in its fur, made more menacing by the wicked gleam in its large ruby-red eyes. There are—notches in its ears, deep pink scars carved into its round muzzle. This is not a common rat but an experienced battler, and she’s not sure what scares her more: having it glare down at her or knowing she’s about to send her team out to face it. One moment the black and cream rat— _Raticate_ , the way Alolan Rattata are still Rattata—stands before her, shifting its weight on its tiny back paws. The next, it’s moving right toward her.  
  
She doesn't recognize the black-and-red blur as Wesley at first—she can't, she's too focused on those huge teeth, how they're just about the same size as her Pikipek. Wesley screeches as he brings his wing down to clash against the monster's skull.  
  
The light doesn’t fade from his wings the way she expects it to. It engulfs him, turns him into a star. The glow fades to reveal a different Pokemon—a much longer beak, more black in its feathers, every angle sharper. She’s vaguely aware of Haro gasping beside her. Wesley doesn’t turn to preen, or even to address her, just flies straight down with a sharper, harsher cry.  
  
Evolution should be a beautiful thing, an exciting thing. Right now all she feels is fear.  
  
The Raticate is more blur than shape as it races to the side, avoiding Wesley’s Rock Smash entirely. Its naked tail lashes behind the Raticate before it jumps up and slams into Wesley. Her heart is hammering and her mouth is dry as Wesley is sent flying into the air, righting himself up. Furious, but not hurt, if his angry shriek is anything to go by. This doesn’t calm her.  
  
There's supposed to be another trainer on the other side of the battlefield, calling out attack names and giving her a second to react. But the clearing is empty save the four of them, and Wesley is charging again with his wings glowing. The Raticate doesn't even make a move to dodge, just opens its huge mouth. One wrong bite—  
  
It isn't instinct that drives her to call Wesley back, but desperation. She catches raw fury in Wesley’s eyes before he’s absorbed into red. If the Raticate is surprised by the sudden retrieval it doesn’t show it, dropping onto all fours and staring her down.  
  
Haro sits up in Sherri's lap, body quivering but voice strong when he tells her, "Put me in instead!"  
  
But Haro isn't much bigger than Wesley, and he can't fly. She eyes the Raticate again, brow furrowed. She watches enough Battle Network, for Mew's sake, she should know how to do something—  
  
She’s seen something like this, when she’d gone to watch a match in Goldenrod. Fighting's strong against normal. And this thing, with its black fur, is probably dark-type too. Buck is broad but he’s small too, what if—  
  
"Sherri!"  
  
The Raticate is racing to her again, its wicked mouth open. She doesn’t know she’s throwing his ball until Buck has materialized in a flash of white in front of her. He’s already thrown his fists out in front of him—the attack hits straight into the Raticate's huge cheek, sends it flying a few precious feet.  
  
Buck is silent, motionless save a slight turn of his head. She recognizes it from training:  _tell me what to do._  
  
First, she breathes. She’s practiced this in the Pokemon Center. Buck against Casey. This is just a fatter, uglier Casey, who's already weak to Buck's fists. Just breathe, fucking  _breathe_  for one damn second. "That new move," Sherri says, and there's no time to be surprised by the steel in her voice. "B-Brick Break!"  
  
Buck doesn't move, just shifts his stance and waits for the Raticate to come. Instead it sits on its haunches and screams into the open air. Not an attack, she thinks, though she's impressed by her Makuhita's stoic stance. No—another dark shape, a Rattata with long scars down its back and some of its cheek fluff missing. Its gold eyes gleam in the sunlight as it sizes Buck up, hissing.  
  
She turns down to Haro, fighting hard to keep the panic out of her voice. "H-Haro, go take care of the little one."  
  
But the Popplio shakes his head vehemently, eying Sherri with something close to regret. "Buck has to do it by himself."  
  
She only has time to think  _bullshit_  before the dark duo charges towards Buck, their fangs gleaming in the light. Something cuts into her palm as she scrambles up and screams, "Brick Break! One hand each!"  
  
The first blow connects straight into the tiny Rattata, sending it skyward. The second grazes the Raticate's side. It hisses as it sinks its fangs into Buck's thigh. Buck only winces as he shifts his weight, knocking the Raticate right on its head. He grabs the Raticate right in the scruff and tosses him with more power than she'd expected—the Raticate falls to the ground with another grunt, slower this time to push itself back up. Buck doesn't shuffle toward his opponent, just stares like he's egging it on or something. She can't see him with his wide yellow back turned to her.  
  
For one horrible moment she thinks that the Raticate will lunge forward, land a lucky hit. But the giant rat only eyes her, staring for one long, horrible moment with its beady red eyes. And then it nods, melting soundlessly back into the darkness.  
  
There’s a long moment where she stares, waiting. She’s been ambushed three times already; four doesn’t seem like such a huge reach after that. But Buck finally loosens his stance and turns to her, just a slight turn of his mouth revealing any pride in his performance, and she feels… not safe, but  _better_.  
  
Haro’s the one who cheers congratulations, who looks Buck over. He finally turns to her with his head tilted and eyes shining. "Sherri, do  _you_  need a potion?" he asks, tilting his head.  
  
She laughs, cupping his cheek in her free hand. "No, I’m… okay,” she says, and even if it doesn’t feel quite right it doesn’t feel wrong. “Thank you."  
  
Buck stands at her side, his slight smile gone. "The crystal?" Buck asks, reaching for her other hand. She lets him take it and pry her fingers open. There's a bit of blood along the sharp edges—that must have been the flash of pain—but it gleams in the light, seemingly innocent. "You get to keep this."  
  
She's supposed to feel victorious, right? All she can feel right now is relief that it's over, that nothing else is going to jump right out at her. "Is it… is it like a badge?"  
  
"It's a new ability," Ilima says, their voice carrying through the cavern.  
  
Suddenly Casey is at her side and she's wrapped up in True's arms and roaming hands—like she's checking for injuries, Sherri realizes, recognizing the feather-light touches broken by sudden bursts of pressure. True's eyes are wide and watery as she pulls Sherri up, sweat drenching her brow. "You're okay, but… are you  _okay?_ "  
  
"I don't know," she says truthfully, and looks down. No rolled ankles, no sharp pain in her knee, just her hand which will heal with a good soak and some medicine. "I think so."  
  
From the corner of her eye she sees Casey checking Haro and Buck, who fidget under his touches. Haro's the first to interrupt the tension with a cheery, "We beat the trial!"  
  
"You certainly did," Ilima says, and smiles. "You've earned the Normalium Z, no questions asked."  
  
"The what now."  
  
“The crystal you earned.” True's nervous laughter rings in her ears. "It's an ancient Alolan power. Ilima was telling me about it as we watched you."  
  
Wouldn’t she have seen them standing around her? She turns her eyes to the ceiling, but the light has already shifted. If there’s a hiding place up there, she can’t see it. “You saw everything, huh?”  
  
“Just the last bit,” True says. She presses her hand against the back of Sherri’s head one more time and sighs with relief. “You were great.”  
  
 _I’m alive,_  she wants to say instead, but gets distracted by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Ilima’s Smeargle brushes dust off its thighs, bits of leaves stuck between its stubby fingers. She looks back up again to the light dribbling down from the ceiling, down to the Smeargle, and sighs. “So this crystal,” Sherri says, holding it up in the light. From the corner of her eye she sees True wince at the blood smeared along the edges. “Tell me more.”  
  
Ilima nods. “The island challenge began as a way for Alola's children to learn how to befriend Pokemon, and how to work with them in order to best protect Alola from unexpected dangers. Z-Crystals were considered a last-resort move, when other strategies couldn't measure up. Handled correctly, they’re an explosion of power guaranteed to turn the tide of battle."  
  
"And little kids go on the island challenge,” she says slowly. “So they can get ‘explosions of power.’”  
  
"You could say the same about any child taking a League challenge," they retort, eying True with a quirked brow. Her eyes instinctively find Casey, who has gone stone-faced. "Aspiring trainers are expected to treat the Z-Crystals with respect, and they don’t earn them unless the guardian Totem Pokemon believe they’re ready for that responsibility. Trial Captains and Kahunas assist them with this."  
  
"And you can use z-moves?" Sherri asks, looking down at the Smeargle. The Smeargle practically preens before her, leisurely spinning its red-painted tail.  
  
"Of course," Ilima says, gesturing to their clunky white bracelet. "Hala hands out Z-Rings to those who defeat him in battle."  
  
"Which would explain why he wanted to meet with us tonight," True sighs. "I was with Kukui when I ran into Ilima to schedule the trial. He must've told him."  
  
Every time she thinks she can trust Kukui, he does something like this. Sherri sighs. "So I guess… what, we go meet with him?"  
  
"First we take a break," True says, brushing her hand along Buck's head. The Makuhita doesn't react to the show of affection, but looks up at Sherri with some distant cousin of curiosity. "If anyone deserves a nap after that, it's you."  
  


* * *

  
It’s not even noon when Sherri’s head hits the pillow again, feet propped up on pillows and her hand bandaged up. The Z-Crystal gleams on the bedside table beside an empty bottle of juice. The thin murmur of the city outside doesn’t calm her mind—she can’t get the Raticate’s eyes out of her head, or Wesley evolving so suddenly, or the look in  _his_  eyes when she’d recalled him.  
  
She’ll have to get something extra special for Preston, who only got mad at her when she deserved it. A new toy, or a picnic basket. Which reminds her, she’d forgotten to ask Ilima about Melemele Meadow.  
  
Maybe she can bribe him with a treat, or a game, or just something shiny. Wesley isn’t even a Pikipek anymore. Does his new species like shiny things? She starts to get up but pauses. True’s the one with the Pokedex. She settles back into the bed with a sigh, folding her arms.  
  
The door opens and True pads in, almost like she’s been summoned. Sherri turns to her and asks, “Do you have the ‘dex on you?”  
  
True grabs it immediately from the side of her backpack, giving it to her. “What do you want to know?”  
  
“If there’s a way I can make Wesley not hate me,” she says, navigating through the dex. The notes on each species are sparse compared to Oak’s detailed notes, buts she finds a picture well enough:  _Trumbeak,_  known for spitting seeds at enemies. “Maybe we should get helmets.”  
  
“We’re fine,” True says, placing her cardigan and backpack onto the office chair. She sinks down at the edge of the bed, resting her hand on Sherri’s thigh. “He just needs some time to calm down. And if he’s still upset when we see him tonight, it’ll be okay. We’ll just have to… have Casey interpret for us or something. He’s good at that.”  
  
“You’d know best, huh.”  
  
True smiles. “I’d like to think so.”  
  
She finds herself waiting for Casey to pop in and add something, like “Of course” or “Stop worrying.” There’s nothing. Sherri lifts her head and looks around the room, finding no sign of the Pikachu. “Where is Casey, anyway?”  
  
“Down by the pool, on his guitar. When I left he already had some tourists in the palms of his tiny, tiny hands.”  
  
That doesn’t seem important when she looks back up at True, whose green eyes are warm and inviting. “So we’re here. By ourselves.”  
  
True nods. “We have to go pick up the team in an hour, but if there’s anything you wanted to do…?”  
  
They have a nice hotel room to themselves, without any Pokemon. She knows what she  _should_  do: take advantage of this rare moment of time alone with her girlfriend. But she sighs and buries her head in her hands. “A nap actually sounds amazing.”  
  
True laughs, moving on the bed to spoon her. Sherri presses her back against True’s front, pulling their conjoined hands to rest in front of them. Sleep isn’t even the goal anymore, as she settles the solid, warm weight of her girlfriend behind and around her. She closes her eyes anyway, wiggling deeper into True’s embrace.  
  
“We’re going to get through this,” True says, and kisses Sherri’s shoulder.  
  
She smiles, and knows True can feel it. “Love you, too,” Sherri answers back, and lets herself sleep.


	7. Chapter Six

The sky is a bruise by the time they walk into Iki Town, all purple and red and blue. The firelight adds welcome gold onto the people and buildings, crackling with anticipation. The cheery decorations for the starter selection have been taken down, replaced with strings of unlit lights—so that they don't fight against the torches, she guesses.   
  
“It feels like a gym,” True says quietly beside her. “I half expect the Kahuna to wait for us on the stage.”  
  
There's only one figure on the stage, a young girl playing with a round brown-and-green Pokemon. They turn to the Kahuna’s large house instead, halting just before the door.   
  
Hala answers on the third knock, the red embroidery glinting from the golden robes. He gestures them wordlessly into his house. The Kahuna sinks into his leather chair, his eyes never meeting theirs—they move between the front door and the white landline phone on the table to his left, somehow filling the room with its silence. "Yes, this… this is good," he mutters to himself, and sighs. "How can I help you?"  
  
They're the only ones in this room, and yet she feels eyes on her. She flinches, turning her head to stare at phantom shadows. Nothing jumps from them. True fidgets against her, the couch groaning under her shifting weight. "Kahuna… you asked us to come here." She pauses. "Or, you asked Kukui, and Kukui asked us—"  
  
"Yes. Yes," Hala repeats, and is it—no, there's no trick of the light. There's sweat on Hala's brow, like a new glossy stain on a vintage chestnut table. "Forgive me, I've had an adventurous day. I hear you bested the Totem Pokemon, Sherri."  
  
Bested seems like the wrong word— _narrowly escaped_  seems closer to the truth. How much did he know? What had Kukui told him? What had  _Ilima_  told Kukui? "Buck did most of the work," she says, stiffening her posture. “  
  
He—chuckles? There, the twinkle in his eye. "What is the custom like in Kanto?" he asks, turning to True.  
  
She rises to meet him. “Designated buildings, fully staffed and available for trainers.”  
  
"With Pokemon Centers nearby," Casey mutters.  
  
"Mm. Then you'll probably be more familiar with the Grand Trial," Hala says. "Once a challenger has cleared all the trials on an island, they earn the privilege of battling the Kahuna to demonstrate their growth as a trainer."  
  
Maybe if the telephone rings Hala will dismiss them. Maybe she can convince True to get on the next boat to the closest island. Rent a sea plane. Do something to get out of this room that feels smaller by the minute. "The trials are pretty much the same, then? Go in a dark place, get jumped?"  
  
She doesn't fancy herself as someone who gets intimidated easily—she had stared down a Rocket executive and had stood her ground, walked from his verbal lashing with her head held high—but her stomach could just the slightest bit tighter as Hala stares at her.  
  
"You haven't heard our legends." He says this without any room for dissent. He doesn't need it. "There are greater threats than men with Pokemon trained to become weapons. There are beasts that  _are_ weapons. They do not broadcast their moves. They leave no room for hesitation. This is what we train our people to do—to think quickly on their feet."  
  
"This is a trial for your children, right?” Sherri asks sharply. “How many complete these—these trials?”  
  
Hala lifts his head. "How many complete yours?"  
  
And with only the slightest flicker of guilt, she turns to True—True, whose gym is supposed to be a perfect place for a trainer and their starter to begin their journeys, who still sees Pokemon come out worse off than they'd been when they'd gone in—she curls her hands into palms and opens her mouth to retort. “I—”  
  
And then the front door slams open with a boy with a large paper bag in his arms yelling. "Tutu, they were out of your milk but they said they were getting more tomorrow, so I'll stop first thing in the morning and..."  
  
She can't focus on anything but the boy's hair, and it really is green; more like a shadowed fern than fresh grass. His wide smile falls into a concerned frown as no one greets him. "Is, uh, everything okay?"  
  
There's a horrible moment when she wonders if everything isn't. Then Hala smiles, and the room snaps to normalcy like a spinal disk realigned. "Of course. Thank you for going for me."  
  
"Figured it was a good apology for the butt-kicking I'm about to give you," he jokes, placing the bag on the counter. He turns to True and Sherri. “Are you guys going to be fighting tonight?"  
  
"True is," Sherri says suddenly. She turns to her girlfriend, pointedly meeting her eyes. She clears her throat, lowers her voice and says, "It's only fair, since I fought the Totem Pokemon."  
  
She knows the look True gives her: wide-eyed, confused, like a newly hatched Girafarig who still doesn’t know what to do with its legs. “I—”  
  
"You're the gym leader from Kanto, right?” Hau asks, falling into the nearest chair with a satisfied grunt. “I watch a lot of battles but it’s probably not the same as seeing one happen for real. Are you just gonna fight Tutu, or do you have to fight everyone? Do—”  
  
"Let them rest," Hala says wearily, turning again to the phone.  
  
Even Hau seems to notice this time. "You waiting for a phone call, Tutu?"  
  
Hala sighs. "I was," he says, and mutters something low under his breath. "How did the moon look, Hau?"  
  
"Not quite up there yet, but almost," Hau says immediately. He must catch Sherri's furrowed brow because he smiles. "Grand Trials always take place when the sun or moon are at their highest points in the sky. And since we, uh, kind of missed noon…"  
  
"I wanted to make sure we were ready!" a voice on top of the stairs cries. Hau's Pichu—no, a  _Pikachu_  now, with rounded ear tips and that trademark heart-shaped tail. She’s rounder in the chest than Casey is, her mouth bigger and eyes brighter. "Did ya get what I wanted?"  
  
"One sweet malasada, extra honey," Hau says, leaning back in the chair. "Like I'd forget! Now we have everything we need to win."  
  
Hala chuckles. "Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're my grandson."  
  
"I would never!" Hau says, but winks at Sherri anyway. "Hey, you guys want to hang out until it's time to battle? Tutu has to handle some business stuff, but I could make something until moonrise.”  
  
True shakes her head. "I should, uh, probably figure out a strategy. Since we're battling tonight."  
  
Her expectant eyes reminds Sherri that she’s the one with the Poke Balls. She plucks them off her belt, surprised to feel the weight of them in her hand. She stops just short of placing Haro’s ball in True's hand. Her hesitation is noticed; True leans down to look at her, head tilted slightly.  _You okay?_  she mouths silently.  
  
It shouldn't be this hard. But finally she places the ball into True's waiting hand. "Should I go with you?"  
  
"Do you want to?" True asks quietly.  
  
 _Who am I supposed to listen to?_  Wesley's voice echoes in her head. Sherri shakes her head. "Go show Alola the might of Kanto."  
  
True doesn’t move immediately; her lips are pursed, like she wants to kiss her, but her eyes keep wandering. She finally settles with a firm squeeze of Sherri’s hand before standing up, rolling her shoulders. “Okay,” she says.  
  
"I need to help set up the stage," Hala says, and stands. "Hau, stay here until it's time. If the phone calls, you send for me immediately."  
  
Hau's eyes go wide. "Uh, sure. Is it that important a call?”  
  
"It’s important. But there’s no need to worry," he says, and smiles. It doesn't quite meet his eyes.  
  
True and Hala only leave backward glances behind. Casey stares at her from True's shoulder, then mutters something in her ear. She nods, and doesn't turn to watch him come back to the couch. Casey jumps up to her side, his brown eyes almost hesitant. Sherri sighs, turning to him. "Am I officially worse off than she is?”  
  
"Honestly? Yeah," Casey says. "And it'll make her feel better if you're okay."  
  
Just because he’s right doesn’t make her feel less guilty. “I just—”  
  
“No need to explain yourself to me,” he says, and settles into her lap. His heavy weight is oddly soothing; no wonder True always has him within arm’s reach. “If anyone understands battling anxiety, it’s me. Besides, this is what she does. They’ll be fine.”  
  
  
  
"So hey, you're from Kanto, right?" Makana says from the top of the stairs. "Do Pokemon there battle like,  _all_  the time, or only just part of the time?"  
  
"We aren't machines," Casey says, tilting his head.  
  
"Do you have like, cameras following you everywhere you go in case you do something cool?  _Ooh_ , do you have to study all the important battles before they let you join a battling team? Does everyone have a favorite battle?"  
  
Casey laughs, and Sherri can't help but join him. "I mean—maybe? I don't know if I have a favorite."  
  
"Don't have a—well, I'm gonna choose a favorite for you right now,” she says, and races down the stairs to the small TV against the inner wall—a small box set, like her grandma is probably sitting in front of in her small apartment in Celadon.  
  
Hau chuckles as he settles back down in his chair, a bowl of what looks like dry cereal in his hands. “Should’ve warned you, it’s hard to stop her once she gets started.”  
  
“I’m  _fine!_ ” The TV flickers to life with the press of a button. The audio comes first, commentary for what sounds like a sports game. "Okay, so I think I still have it paused from the last time…”  
  
Casey looks up, stretching. “League matches popular on Alolan TV?”  
  
“Not really. But I have friends who can get copies of famous Pokemon battles from all the different regions,” Hau says. He turns around, maybe to make sure the window is closed, before turning to them with a smile. “We’re not supposed to do it, but Tutu and I like to watch them, just to see.”  
  
Two women fighting over a black-and-white ball down a flat green field is replaced immediately by a flurry of brown, orange, and gold. She recognizes it just before Casey stiffens in her lap.  
  
"So this guy,” Makana says, pointing to the huge Arcanine on the right side of the screen. "He's a gym leader Pokemon from this city that's supposed to be like Alola—Sinnabur? Whatever,” she says, before Sherri can even think to respond. “But this Raichu right here, he comes in and—oh, where's the button to make it play, he's about to do his super cool move—"  
  
There’s a whole generation of kids who have never seen his partner Pokemon as anything but a statue in their history books, or on Memorial Road if they can make their way to the League. The last time she’d seen him fighting an Arcanine had ended with him burned to cinders on Indigo Plateau—it had been the last time anyone had seen him alive.   
  
Including his brother, who has started shivering in her lap.  
  
The video starts again. Al the Raichu twists his body and throws his jagged tail like a whip, catching the Arcanine—Blaine's Arcanine, Hyperion, how often had True spoken of him after her meetings with Blaine?—just under the eye. He howls, rears back, and Al blasts him with a white-hot Thunderbolt. The great maned dog collapses in a heap at the Raichu's feet. People are screaming in the stands—in delight this time, instead of fear.  
  
"And it's one, two,  _bam!_ " Makana says, and turns around. "And he's… oh, it's okay!” She smiles kindly, her ears twitching. “I cried the first time I saw this, too!"  
  
She doesn't know what to do—touch him? Hold him to her chest, the way she's seen True do several times before? But Casey takes a long, deep breath, and lifts his freckled arm to wipe his eyes—the same freckles that are blown up on the television screen, as his late brother is thrown into the air by his ecstatic trainer. "He's your favorite?" he asks quietly.  
  
And Makana, oblivious, nods and beams. "Yeah! Kukui told us about his plan to build a Pokemon League, and I decided I want to travel and grow strong just like him."  
  
Casey doesn't respond. How could he? How would she?   
  
She's saved from wondering when the door creaks open and the small black-and-red cat from the starter ceremony pokes her head into the house. "Hala and the gym leader are about to fight," she meows.  
  
"Oh, already?" Hau says. "Man, I thought we had more time. C'mon Makana, turn the TV off and let's go! I don't want to miss this fight!"  
  
And with the push of a button, the screen goes black. Makana waves them goodbye and follows her trainer and teammate out the door, which opens further. The brisk night air steals the warmth out of the house, leaving only a cold light from the lamps.  
  
Sherri takes a deep breath, counts to three, and says, "If you want to talk—"  
  
"I'm fine," Casey says, his voice thick. "Let's… let's go watch True and the others fight."   
  
It takes her a moment to follow him out the door. She turns again to the TV, maybe hoping there's still some shadow of the Raichu that hasn't quite faded from the screen. Only her own face stares back at her, less confident than it had been just this morning.  
  
Alolan winters may be warmer than Kanto's, but there's an unmistakable chill to the air that begs for a jacket. The crowd is smaller tonight; she can breathe easier without so many people pressing against her sides. It's a good mix of people, young and old alike, with small Pokemon balancing on the heads and shoulders of their trainers. Hala and True are already standing on the stage.   
  
She doesn't recognize the Pokemon at Hala's feet. It almost looks like a mutated Krabby had battled a Hitmonchan and come away with more than just its gloves. It's light on its feet, scuttling back and forth as it watches Wesley fly above True. She pulls out the Pokedex from her jacket pocket and points it at Hala's Pokemon.  _Crabrawler, the Boxing Pokemon. It is believed that these Pokemon inspired boxing matches in humans._  
  
"Will you show us the might of Kanto?" Hala's voice booms across the crowd, is met with curious whispers and energetic shouts.  
  
She knows two True Fargones: the one who falls asleep beside her on the couch at Sherri's apartment after they eat themselves into a food coma, and the one who leans into battle with her eyes burning and fists curled tight at her sides. The True before her now is the one most people see, who they invite into their homes on a near-weekly basis during Indigo season. But as she approaches the stage True looks down, catches her eye, and smiles. Just a soft little flick of her lips. It's enough, and Sherri answers back with a slight wave of her hand.  
  
Casey fidgets on her shoulder, not quite a perfect fit but too stubborn to move. "Shouldn't be too hard," he murmurs in her ear, like she's never seen her girlfriend in a gym match before. "She'll start off with—"  
  
"Sand Attack!" True cries. From the corner of her eye she catches Casey nod.  
  
There must be sand trapped in the boards of the stage—it's the only explanation Sherri can think of for the sudden rush of grit blown toward the Crabrawler. It brings its curled fists up, shielding its huge eyes—  
  
"Get behind it, and Peck!"  
  
He cuts through the air, a hot knife through butter. He dives like an arrow from a string, and for a moment she’s reminded of Clara—but where Clara would have turned at the last moment, Wesley throttles right into the crab, wincing and unaware of the mutant Krabby raising a glowing fist—  
  
"Power-up Punch, Noons."  
  
And slamming it into Wesley's side. He screams, turning with a growl as his beak turns white. He jabs it right into Noons' chest. The Crabrawler recoils, and that’s enough of an opening for Wesley to escape with an angry cry. Hala's Pokemon recovers quickly, thrusting its gloves in practice punches.  
  
"Try a Growl," True says.   
  
Wesley swoops down, and for a moment Sherri is convinced he'll go for another Peck—but the loud burst of sound startles the little crab further into its defensive position.  
  
"Gym teams are trained to minimize injuries," Casey murmurs weakly, like he's trying to soothe her.   
  
But Hala's not a gym leader.  
  
"Peck, one more time!" True shouts, drawing Sherri out of her thoughts. Wesley is another dark blur as he races down, his beak white and striking against the orange firelight around him. The attack connects. Someone screams; she doubts it's Wesley, who’s pulled up into the air with a knowing smirk. The foreign Pokemon totters once, falls to the ground without a sound. It doesn't get back up again.  
  
Hala recalls his Pokemon to a smattering of cheers, with heads turned to True. The next flash of light from his side of the stage materializes into a shape she recognizes immediately: a Machop, its muscles already threatening to burst through its ash-blue skin.   
  
"Wesley!" True calls, and lifts his ball up. "That's enough. Return."  
  
She waits for his loud protest, for him to move away from the light. He doesn't—but he takes the time to find her in the crowd, to stare at her and glare as he disappears in a flash of red.  
  
True knows how to handle Machop—she’ll probably send out Buck, repeat his match against the Totem Raticate. But the light from True’s second ball doesn't materialize into their Makuhita—Haro's the one who takes the stage, his tail thumping against the blonde wood.  
  
And Sherri's breath catches.  
  
True doesn't look out to the crowd for her, but stares at the Machop with a small smile. "Just like we practiced," she says. "Disarming Voice!"  
  
The name doesn't click immediately—then Haro takes a deep breath and screams, and her vision goes pink. Just like Verdant Cavern. Hala's Machop grits its teeth, digging its heels into the wood. She doesn't hear Hala's command but sees the flash of light flickering over the Machop's skin, like a second layer of firelight. Haro ends the note, his eyes bright and wide and happy, and for a moment she expects him to turn around, to see her, to do  _something._  
  
"Low Sweep," Hala commands.  
  
The Machop is faster than she's expecting, or maybe Haro is slow to respond—the Machop swings its foot under Haro's body, flinging him upward. Haro squeaks as he flies up, trying and failing to keep his body perpendicular to the ground.  
  
"She needs to call him back," Sherri whimpers.  
  
True doesn't. "Aqua Jet!"  
  
The Machop doesn't miss the attack entirely; one shoulder droops, the arm cradled close to his chest. Haro is soaking wet and panting as he lands on the stage, ears flipped up. Muraco stands up, his body bowed as he pants and… smiles?  
  
"Prepare yourself,” Hala calls softly. The crowd around her buzzes with anticipation as he braces himself on the wooden stage. "This is the secret treasure of our people!" he cries. "Now is where we truly test Kanto's might!"  
  
The torches dim, almost collapsing into themselves in the wake of Hala's bracelet burning. The Machop matches Hala's stance inch for inch, its fists glowing that same dark gold. Their bodies move in perfect unison as they cross their wrists, slam their heels down.  
  
Her heart isn't in her chest anymore—it's right in her throat, a throbbing weight. The people around her practically vibrate with excitement, grabbing onto the shoulders of their neighbors and whispering. "It's time," they say, like a prophecy is about to be fulfilled.  
  
She turns to True expecting a confident look or at least focused concentration. There’s only surprise, maybe even a flicker of fear. She turns to Haro, who shifts and keeps his head low. "It's okay," True says softly, "whatever this is we can—"  
  
"See now, the power of Alola!" Hala cries, and realization hits her before Hala punches the air in front of him. "All-Out Pummeling!"  
  
The Machop is fully engulfed in gold as it strengthens its stance further, punching rapidly into the air. Fist-shaped balls of light—no, fists  _of_  light—rain down on the stage, so bright that she can hardly see Haro. She hears him, hears the sloshing water and the quick little "Again! Again!"s he makes. Does he jump between them? How? Through a gap she can see his body engulfed in water, in Aqua Jets that dissolve and reform with every pant and jolt.  
  
But somewhere he makes a wrong move, or the Machop makes a  _right_  one, because one moment there’s light and the next there’s smoke.  
  
She's seen battles like this before but almost always from the other side of a television screen, or up in the stands. Smoke rolls over the audience and she hears other people scream too, in surprise and maybe even delight. She can't even see True in all of this. Casey digs his nose into her shoulder, and for a moment she thinks that he's trying to get away from the smoke too. Then she hears his quiet murmurs, his gentle "It's going to be okay"s and "Try and breathe"s, and the lump in her throat becomes too much to bear.  
  
Pokemon have been lost in battles like these before.  _True_  has lost Pokemon in battles like these before. She can't lose Haro the way she almost lost Preston, the way True had lost—  
  
And then she hears it: like a shimmer, or a rush of gathering energy. The smoke only takes the edge off the bright white light exploding on the other side of the stage like a star, and even then it dissipates as quickly as it had come.  
  
She's only just aware of True shouting "Aqua Jet, let's go!" before the light slams right into the Machop, engulfing it. She has to close her eyes and look away, the smoke and the light both too strong. Water sloshes, bodies wrestle on the stage. They come to a halt. Someone’s panting. Casey nudges her neck and murmurs, “It’s safe. Look up.”  
  
There’s a long, new shape on top of the Machop, panting hard. It turns to the Kahuna, standing tall even as the Machop beats its weak fists against its side. She can’t see its face, but she can hear the smile in its cried, “Nothing like a light blow, am I right?”  
  
And Hala, who breathes hard despite not moving, laughs. "More than. Well done."  
  
She's panting too, even shaking, as Haro—who else would make so bad a pun?—jumps from the fallen Machop into True's open arms. True walks to the center of the stage, juggling Haro in one hand and accepting Hala's firm handshake with the other.  
  
"He did it," Casey says, like he'd had doubts.  
  
Maybe she does too, because realization doesn’t quite hit until until True and Haro have walked off the stage. She pushes people out of the way with elbows and shoulders, as Hau and Makana take the stage. As the crowd turns their undivided attention to the Kahuna and his grandson, she and Casey meet True and Haro under Tapu Koko’s painted eyes.  
  
Even in the shadows she knows Haro’s fur has brightened, that he’s grown long and muscular. She reaches forward to brush against the skirt-like growths around his abdomen—the same texture as his ruffled collar, rubbery and fine. There's pink in his eyes now, the flecks flashing brilliantly in otherwise familiar gray irises. They're wide and bright when he looks up at her and asks, "Did I do good?"  
  
"Did you," she starts, and then leans forward to pepper light kisses on his smooth forehead, his prickly cheeks, even the top of his very wet nose. "You scared the hell out of me," she says, and touches their noses together. "But you were  _awesome._ "  
  
“All that work training for the Totem paid off, didn’t it?” True asks, and Sherri looks up. Her face is still flushed from her battling high, her eyes bright with residual panic, when she says, "I wish you could've been up there with us.”  
  
Haro giggles between them as Sherri leans into them, wrapping her arms tightly to make a Haro sandwich. Casey jumps from her head to True’s as she presses a quick kiss into True’s cheek. He looks behind them. “So, what now?”  
  
The roar of the crowd answers her—she recognizes the black-and-red cat on the battlefield, a Mankey pinned under its body. True smiles. “Watch Hau?"  
  
“Give me Haro then,” she says. Haro fits well in her arms, less like a doll and more like a large sack of flour. Except this sack of flour sighs into her ear, and settles against her chest. "What, are you itching for a chance to battle him?"  
  
“Yeah,” True says. She turns to Casey, mouth open in question, then pauses. “What'd you guys do at Hala's?"  
  
He doesn't meet her eye. True turns to Sherri instead, brow quirked. "Just talked a bit," she says softly, before mouthing  _later_.  
  
The light from Hala's second ball draws their attention back to the stage. Firelight catches on a long-limbed black-and-white Pokemon that passes a glossy ball in its dexterous hands. It lowers its protected head as it inches forward, beginning to circle Makana wordlessly.  
  
“That’s a… uh. Hm. I forget,” Haro says. He turns to the side. “Oh! Professor, hi! Do you know what that Pokemon is?”  
  
She turns to see Kukui walking toward them, his hands in his coat pockets. Gone is the easy smile she’s already used to seeing on him, replaced by a grim set of his mouth. “Passimian. Looks like Hala’s bringing out the big guns for Hau.”  
  
“Is that a bad thing?” Sherri asks.  
  
“All depends on how well Hau’s trained. Hala’s making it clear he’s not going to go easy on him, just ‘cause he’s his grandson.”  
  
“Is he ready for that?”  
  
“We’re about to find out,” True says softly beside her.  
  
“Makana’s going to be the one who wins this for me!” Hau calls out, striking a pose. “So just try to keep up with us! Quick Attack!”  
  
Sherri turns just in time to see Makana crash tail-first into the Passimian, clearly aiming for its face—if she hadn't seen Al's tape she never would have recognized the move. The black-and-white Pokemon dives at the last second, the attack grazing its chest fur, before flinging a dark fist forward. Makana isn't nearly so agile and gets tossed into the air, landing clumsily on her paws.  
  
Hau’s confident “Thunder Wave!” isn’t immediately answered; Makana has to dodge one, two, three punches before shooting the weak jolt of electricity at her opponent. The Passimian falters, leaning on its back limbs as it pants.  
  
“Focus Energy,” Hala calls out. The Passimian dips its head and breathes long and slow, oblivious to the momentary flickering in its fur.  
  
“Not a problem. Makana, let’s get him to play nice!”  
  
"Huh." Kukui meets Sherri's eye. “Play Nice is a move that lowers an opponent’s offense,” he says, as Makana cuddles up to the Passimian. He lowers his ball and pats her on the head. Beside her, Kukui sighs. “But it’s not the move I would have chosen after Focus Energy—”  
  
Hala interrupts them with a sharp "Rock Smash!" She misses the blow that sends Makana flying into the air, but flinches as the Pikachu lands hard on the stage.  
  
"True," Casey says slowly. "Put me in my ball."  
  
True's body stiffens as she turns to him. “But you hate—”  
  
“ _True_ ,” he says weakly. “Please.”  
  
True only carries Casey’s ball out of necessity—as far as Sherri knows he’s never been in it, much like Preston. True lifts it up wordlessly, watching in stunned silence as Casey slams his front paw forward and disappears in a flash of red. True’s used to recalling Pokemon, knows how to hold onto a Poke Ball. But Casey’s looks heavy and awkward in her hand, like it doesn't quite fit.  
  
She takes a deep, steading breath, and turns to Sherri. “What happened when I left Hala's?" she repeats quietly.  
  
There's no use hiding it. "Makana showed us a tape of Al fighting Blaine's Arcanine."  
  
True gasps, looking down at the ball. “They— _how?_ "  
  
"Hau has a friend or something," she says, watching bits of electricity flicker past the audience.  
  
True looks back down at the ball, sighing. Sherri knows, just by watching, that she'll be spending much of the night alone in her bed.  
  
A howl and a flash of light bring their attention back to the stage. Makana is panting hard and probably only keeping herself upright by sheer determination alone. The Passimian rises, lifting the hard ball in its paw—  
  
And falls without a sound, knocked out.  
  
The crowd erupts with cheers, clapping and hollering for one of their own. It’s a much warmer reception than True had received, but she doesn’t mind; she understands, even. Hometown challengers always get warmer congratulations from gym leaders and crowds alike. She turns to True with a smile and is met with an understanding nod.  
  
“You have defeated me fairly,” Hala says, and walks toward him. He dives into his pocket and pulls out a Z-Ring identical to his own. "The Z-Ring represents a promise made to the people and Pokemon of Alola: that you will fight for and protect them from whatever harm comes their way. Do you accept this honor?"  
  
"I do, Tu—Kahuna Hala," Hau corrects, and bows low.  
  
Hala takes great care in snapping the bracelet over Hau's wrist, and then pulls him in for a huge hug. Hau leans into it enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around his grandfather's back. The crowd applauds, alternating between wordless cheers and chanting Hau's name. Sherri claps hard enough for her hands to sting, and True cheers loudly.  
  
"Do you think he'll award you one of those?" Sherri asks between claps.  
  
"Not in public," True says, her voice already hoarse. "I'd understand if he didn't at all. It's an Alolan custom, after all."  
  
"And we're not Alolan," Sherri finishes. "Right."  
  
"Hey Sherri?" Haro asks, looking up at her. “Why didn't Casey watch Makana finish her battle?"  
  
She turns to True, who sighs. "It's a long story, Haro," True says. "When the time's right, we'll let him tell you."  
  
“There you are, Kukui.” Hala walks toward them, still weary from his back-to-back fights. “I waited by the phone for you.”  
  
“Called a few times before I looked up at the moon and figured you were in matches," Kukui says. "Looks like I missed True's battle, but I got to catch Hau’s.”  
  
“Wasn’t I great?” Hau asks, jumping up from behind Hala. “Tutu had me worried with Passimian, but Makana was great.”  
  
Sherri looks down, expecting to see the Pikachu at his feet. “She doing okay?"  
  
“Oh! Yeah, she's probably just off celebrating with the people. I should actually go and find her, we have to get her checked out and get a good night's sleep. After all, round two of the Island Challenge starts in the morning!”  
  
She’s forgotten how energetic standard trainers are; True’s able to get most of the itch out of her system between gym hours, ready to settle down and video-chat with her in the evening. Without a steady stream of challengers she seems just as jazzed as Hau, her eyes bright and smile freer. “You’re heading off without a break?”  
  
“I’ve never been to Akala Island before! I hear there’s a huuuuge hotel where all the movie stars stay, with the best frozen candy-cones in the whole world! And then there’s Paniola Town where they make the westerns—”  
  
“Don’t forget that the Island Challenge is not an excuse to play tourist,” Hala says.  
  
“Well I can’t only focus on training! Trainers are supposed to protect  _all_  of Alola, right? I have to know what it is I’m fighting for.”  
  
Kukui laughs. “Just so happens I have business in Heahea City in the morning. I can give you a ride on my boat if you want to save some cash?”  
  
“Uh,  _yeah!_ ” Hau says. “Get an extra treat for Makana when we get there, and then!” He turns to True and Sherri, smiling. “And then I want to battle you and your Brionne!”  
  
“It’s a deal,” True says, and extends her hand. Hau takes it energetically. “But we should probably get going, if we’re going to wake up early in the morning. When do we meet up?”  
  
“It takes about two hours by boat to get to Heahea so… around eight? Gives you time to pack up your things.”  
  
No time for research, probably. Sherri sighs and looks down at Haro. “Know anything about Akala Island?”  
  
“It’s too big to stay in one place all the time,” Haro says. “And there are three trials instead of just one.”  
  
“But right now, it’s time for all of us to make like a Snorlax and Rest,” Kukui says, and turns to them. “You ladies need a walk back to your hotel?”  
  
“Moonrise can bring out the more spirited Pokemon from their nests,” Hala says, “and I’m sure your team is tired."  
  
And if she hadn’t been suspicious about whatever it was between Kukui and Hala before, she sure as hell is now.  
  
“Aue, I’ve got to get packing! See you later, Sherri and True!” Hau says, and sprints to one of the houses closest to the stage.  
  
“And I should be getting back to the crowd,” Hala says, and turns to them. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. I wish…” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “If Kukui has his way, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”  
  
Hala fades back into the crowd, his laugh booming in the night. People are already starting to make toward their houses, leaving the torchlights burning around the stage. No one comes to smother them. They don’t have to—one sudden rush of wind sweeps over the open courtyard, stealing fire and smoke. A sharper, reedier laugh echoes above their heads, already miles away.  
  
“Tapu Koko,” Kukui says softly, and mutters something else under his breath.  
  
True still has her eyes skyward. “What does that mean?”  
  
“It’s a blessing,” Kukui says, and mutters something low in Alolan. She doesn’t need a translator for the desperate gleam in his eyes. "There’s something I need to talk to the two of you about. In, uh, private.”  
  
“I think we’re fine right where we are,” Sherri says.  
  
“I usually don’t insist, but uh—"  
  
She’s fallen in love with Alola’s blue skies and sea, its people’s penchant for flowing dresses, the Pokemon who look so unlike any she’s ever seen before. But she’s lost her patience for everyone’s insistence on cryptic bullshit. She’s had it from Ilima who had thrown her into a trial with nothing to expect, from Hala who obviously doesn’t even  _want_  her and True here—  
  
“Hey now, no need for the Mean Look,” he says.  
  
And  _by Mew_  she’s had enough of Kukui’s love for looping around whatever he means to say with puns and flattery. “Then get serious and tell us what the hell's happening!"  
  
She’s lost the feeling in her arms, lost all interest in anything outside of Kukui’s dumbstruck face. Not even the heavy weights on her shoulders—True’s hands, she’s sure of it, she knows the shape and feel of them even in her red anger—move her eyes away.  
  
Kukui lowers his voice to the point that she has to strain to hear it. “I got a call from a friend on Akala Island early this morning, right when Ilima was headed out for your trial. Something’s…  _happening_  in Alola right now, and it’s bigger than I thought it was going to be."  
  
“Wait,” True says, “bigger like  _how?_ "  
  
"Bigger like, a friend found a girl on the beach late last night with a strange Pokemon in her bag after a hole appeared in the sky," Kukui says.   
  
She can't have heard that right. But True's dumbstruck face is answer enough for her. It's Haro who answers with a tilt of his head and a soft, "She's okay though?"  
  
"Yeah, she's with Burnet. I’m leaving first thing in the morning and thought you both would, uh, be able to help.” He sighs, looking out. "That's what Hala was waiting around for, to see if I had any new information. But he's needed here on Melemele, he can't go off-island without any warning."  
  
It was always going to be a working vacation. She had expected a little bit of chaos. Maybe more than her usual share, even, when she’d decided to go on this Island Challenge.  
  
"Don't you think this is something for the police to take care of?" True asks beside her. "Or Akala's, uh, Kahuna?"  
  
"Oh believe me, Olivia already knows and is keeping an eye out for her island. But I figure if you guys were heading out there anyway, you might help me out with this too."  
  
But she remembers going out of her way in Vermilion to help a girl in need. True remembers it too, if the look they share is anything to go by. "We'll see what we can do," Sherri says softly. "But we have to get back and pack."  
  
"Great! Thank you. Might sleep with more of a Calm Mind tonight. I'll go ahead and take you two—"  
  
"We're fine on our own," Sherri says quickly. "Just. Meet you at the docks at eight, right?"  
  
"Alright then. Stay safe, see you soon," Kukui says, before turning away from the crowd and back down the steps.  
  
True sighs beside her. "I promise," she says quietly, "we'll have a whole day off soon."  
  
"I think I signed away our rights to a day off when we said we'd do this Island Challenge," Sherri says softly.  
  
"Guess it's time to hit the road," Haro says, and looks up at her with a sly grin. "We're beat, but never beaten!"  
  
True's laughter rings in her ears the long walk back home.


	8. Chapter Seven

Sherri's had worse midnights than lounging in a hot bath with a bottle of cheap Pecha wine.   
  
The booze had been the receptionist's idea after seeing Sherri's face when they'd walked back into the hotel lobby; the bath had been True's. But drinking wine in the bath, that had been all Sherri. She drinks it straight from the bottle, sweetness chasing away any tension the bath hadn't pulled out of her.  
  
There's only a slight buzz in her blood—nothing that will give her a headache come morning, but enough to make her fingers restless. They inch up to the wiry curls almost of their own accord, but she's the one who begins threading them. Braids will be more manageable on the road. She remembers reading about one of the islands: lots of hiking, long stretches between towns.   
  
Her bag is in the other room. Shit.  
  
She slides down into the water until her shoulders and the ends of her hair are wet, and plans. They meet Kukui and Hau at eight in the morning; it'll probably take an hour to walk and not be winded at the docks. Fifteen minutes to pick up the team at the Pokemon Center, another fifteen to check-out of the hotel, and who only knew how long it would take to wake up the next morning—  
  
"Mind if I come in?"  
  
She looks up to see True standing in the doorway with a wine glass in her hand and her head tilted against the frame. Sherri sighs and nods. "You finish packing?"  
  
"Yeah. The team's at the Center, we get to pick them up tomorrow." She glances down at the tiled floor. "Can I...?"  
  
Sherri nods. True lowers herself carefully, bracing herself against the tub, and meets Sherri's eyes over the porcelain lip. "How's Casey doing?" she asks softly.  
  
"He says he's fine, but I'm going to try and keep a closer eye on him." True sighs. "He's been opening up more about his brother, and I'm proud of him for it, but… I guess he still has a long way to go."  
  
"He'll make it. He's tougher than he looks."  
  
True chuckles, then rests her head against the side of the tub. "How about you, how're you doing?"  
  
"Fine. Why?"  
  
"I just," True starts, and sighs. "Know this is more than we signed up for, and I'm starting to feel… guilty. Two huge battles in one day, I know this isn't what we promised and I just—"  
  
"Hey." She slides up, her wet fingers leaving trails on the side of True's face. "If I didn't want to come along, I'd tell you."  
  
"I know." There's a  _but_  in her eyes, and Sherri waits for it. It comes, hesitantly, with a bite of True's lip: "It's just, going on some sort of… mini Pokemon journey is one thing, but whatever this is Kukui wants us involved with seems like it might be a little over our heads."  
  
"Maybe a little. But to be fair, it sounds like it's over Kukui's, too."  
  
True snickers. Sherri laughs too, a little softer. True reaches up to entwine their fingers together, sighing softly. "You'll pull me back if I go too overboard, right?"  
  
Sherri shifts in the tub. The water has gone from an almost-too-hot to comfortably warm. "You're asking me to be your impulse control?"  
  
"I'm asking you to be my partner in this," True says quietly, grabbing the bottle of wine and holding it still in her hands. "Now that this isn't, you know, a vacation with a few work-related delays."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
They linger there for a moment, until True pulls away to pour herself a few ounces of wine. "Is there a glass I'm missing, or…?"  
  
  
"Just been drinking straight from the bottle. Figured I'd finish it anyway, it's not strong." She takes a swig, savoring the dry sweetness before swallowing. "Thought about putting my hair in braids, until I realized I left my bag in the other room."  
  
"I can go get it for you. Did you want help?"   
  
"Might be hard for you on the bathtub." Sherri meets True's eyes, then grins. "But there's plenty of room in here."  
  
True laughs, and starts peeling off her jacket.  
  


* * *

  
Five hours of sleep, three cups of strong coffee, and a bus ride later, they're on Kukui's boat sailing to Akala.  
  
She passes the time flipping through the Pokedex and taking pictures of the sea and the water Pokemon that poke their heads up to watch Kukui's boat pass by. At the hour mark Hau comes to talk to them—to True, rather, about Kantonian battle styles and "I heard you have to keep twelve different teams for gym battles!" Sherri's content to watch them go at it, to shiver in her jacket as Melemele fades to a small dot in the distance and Akala pokes up from the horizon. It's only when she starts losing the feeling in her legs that she moves to the back of the boat.  
  
Haro and Buck are standing there, getting dewy from the sea spray. Haro's the first one to notice her, with a gleeful thump of his tail against the weathered wood. "Do you get to ride on boats a lot, Sherri?"  
  
Sherri chuckles, pocketing the Pokedex in her dress. "Not really. More of a 'keep my feet on solid ground' kind of girl."  
  
"I like swimming," Haro says.  
  
"The water's right there," Buck says.  
  
"I tried that once when Kukui was coming to visit Professor Burnet, but the boat went too fast and I got lost." He grins, turning back to the frothing water. "But maybe—"  
  
"You're staying right here," Sherri says.  
  
"But if I don't, I'll… I'll  _surf_ -er!"  
  
Sherri laughs, leaning into the back railing. "You're silly."  
  
"You could watch them," Buck says, pointing to a school of Tentacool breeching above the waves. "And not be stung by selfish sting—what?"  
  
Haro's eyes are wide with excitement. "You made a pun! Shell-fish!"  
  
"I said selfish."  
  
"Oh," Haro says. "Well, we can work on that. Maybe when we're done meeting with Burnet and her g—"  
  
But Sherri shakes her head, holding a finger to her mouth. Silently she gestures to Hau and True, who don't seem like they heard anything. Haro nods seriously, and Sherri chuckles. "Maybe after we can do something fun though. There has to be a beach in the city, right?"  
  
"Yeah, all of us together! I can go swim in the ocean, Buck can eat some ice cream and maybe smile for once—"  
  
"I smile…"  
  
"Casey could tell us even more stories, and… hmm." Haro looks past her, to True and the fourth ball on her belt. "I don't know about Wesley."  
  
"He seemed calmer in the Pokemon Center," Buck says. "Perhaps a day of relaxation would be good for him."  
  
"Right," she says softly.  
  
"Guys, guys!" Hau yells, waving his hands in the air. "We're almost there!"  
  
For some reason she'd expected Akala to look more like Cinnabar, its bustling city and wild jungle held above the sea by a single steaming mountain. Even from the boat she knows it's bigger, maybe a bit more tamed, looking more like two green tents rolling down into the ocean.  
  
"Land ahoy!" Kukui shouts, to cheers from the front of the boat.  
  
Hau is the first to step onto Akala Island, whooping with both hands held high in the air; Haro, Buck, and Konani are quick on his heels. "You think their malasada shops are as good as the ones back home?" Hau says, stretching his limbs on the cement dock.  
  
"Won't know until you try," Sherri says, steadying herself back on land.  
  
"Buck, Haro, do you guys want to walk or stay in your balls until we're… ready to go?" True asks, stretching her arms above her head.  
  
Buck opts to rest, and disappears in a flash of red light. Haro cheers Kukui on as he finishes the final knots tying his boat down and rejoins them. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and yawns. "I know for  _sure_  there's a good malasada place in Paniola. Just follow Route 4 and you'll be there before the Morning Sun stops shining."  
  
"Good idea! I'll see you all later—and you two," Hau says, turning to True and Sherri. "I'm gonna ask for a double battle with you guys soon, so you better be prepared!"  
  
They wave him goodbye as he runs off the boardwalk, two flashes of light at his side quickly becoming the red-and-black cat and Makana hot on his heels. "He's a good kid," True says, glancing over to Casey on her shoulder. He says nothing, just watches them disappear from view.  
  
"Well," Kukui says, a little too forced to be genuine. "You ladies need to stop somewhere for breakfast too, or should we get going?"  
  
She knows absolutely nothing about the professor they're going to see, but figures any researcher worth their salt is going to have coffee. She glances over to True and shrugs. True nods and turns to Kukui with a simple, "Lead the way."  
  
Heahea City greets them with a large oak sign, painted with white-crested waves, happy surfers on their surfboards, and children in their Marill-patterned flotation rings. Despite the narrower streets, she doesn't feel cramped; there are far less people here than in Hau'oli, and they give the wandering group plenty of space. Haro struggles at the back of the pack, tripping over his new skirts, for only a few hundred feet before Sherri finally bends down and gathers him in her arms.  
  
"I can do it," he whines, but settles his head against her shoulder anyway.  
  
"When we're not late for an appointment," she tells him, pausing for a moment to readjust his slick body in her arms. She'd hardly gotten used to carrying him when he'd been a Popplio, small and perfect to carry; now she feels more like she's juggling the world's most precious bag of flour.  
  
"Better enjoy it while you can," Kukui says, his hands in his lab coat pockets. "He'll be too big to carry once he's fully evolved."  
  
There's a little sadness in True's smile as she sighs. "It took me a while to get used to Jackson being so big after evolving."  
  
"Which time?" Casey asks.  
  
True pauses, thinking. "Both, I guess."  
  
"Who's Jackson?" Haro asks, lifting his head from Sherri's shoulder.  
  
"Someone from our first journey," Casey says. "A Charizard now."  
  
"Do you visit them a lot?"  
  
"They live with us," he says, and looks up. "Or, with True and I."  
  
If Haro notices Sherri pause for a few steps on the street, he doesn't notice it; his attention is fully on Casey and True now. "Your Pokemon don't leave your team after you're finished fighting?"  
  
True blinks. "Mine don't."   
  
"Yours haven't stopped fighting," Sherri says. She turns to Kukui. "Do Alolan trainers do that?"  
  
He tilts his head to the side, the sun catching on his glasses. "Many of them do, yeah, especially if they fail their island challenges and decide not to continue. You know, they say the Totem Pokemon are former companions of our Island Champions—the strongest of the strong, yeah, blessed by the Tapu themselves."  
  
"Would that be a motivation for a Pokemon to join a trainer's team?" Sherri asks.  
  
"Wild Pokemon in Kanto do it, too," Casey says. "If you can beat the strongest opponents, you have status."  
  
Maybe she'd ask Haro to be a translator for her to talk to Wesley.  
  
Kukui looks around, smiles, and gestures forward. "That big building is where we're headed. Now if I can just find my keys…"  
  
Professor Burnet's research lab is a happy medium between Oak's state of the art facility and Kukui's battered seaside house: a small building with blunt sides painted an unassuming beige, sharp corners. There are homey touches: boxes under the windows where red flowers sway in the salty breeze, tended to by tiny bug-Pokemon that look like yellow cotton swabs, a flip-over sign marking the building "Closed for business."   
  
Kukui pulls a long key out of his pocket, tutting to himself. "Think I should just…"  
  
But the door opens suddenly, revealing a dark-skinned woman with a shock of white hair. Sherri only has a few moments to take her in—heather-gray halter tank, dark skinny jeans, a sly turn of her red-brown lips—before she steps forward to take Kukui in her arms. "Thanks for getting here so quickly."  
  
Kukui is slow to respond, almost hesitating to return her embrace. But he pulls her to him with an effortless intimacy. She feels True's hand in hers before she recognizes she's reached for it. "We'll get her settled, don't worry." He clasps her shoulder and pulls away to turn to the two of them. "Sachi, meet my new Kantonian friends. This is Viridian Gym Leader, True Fargone, and Sherri Frasier. And of course, this is—"  
  
"Professor Burnet," the woman says, her extended hand steady. "I apologize for whatever this idiot said to convince you both to come. And I don't mean just to Akala."  
  
"We're happy to be here," Sherri says, which isn't a complete lie; it's closer to the truth than "oh it's no problem!" She places Haro onto the ground, taking a moment to brush her fingers along his skin-like skirts, before responding. "So, fill us in?"  
  
Professor Burnet—Sachi?—leads them inside, past the reception desk and into an intimate office, plainly decorated in browns and blues. The windows have been shuttered, heavy curtains drawn over them; the only light in the room comes from the flickering fluorescents. Kukui seems to pale underneath them, his whole body stiffening. True grabs her hand tighter.  
  
Burnet doesn't seem to notice, instead moving to a large TV on the western wall. She gestures them to sit on her tan couch, and they follow suit. It holds their weight, if barely, and Sherri already knows it's going to be a struggle to get out of it again. "Okay. What do you know of the Pokemon that protect the four islands of Alola?"  
  
"One guardian per island," True says. "Tapu Koko protects Melemele, and…"  
  
Burnet nods. "Tapu Lele protects Akala, Tapu Bulu protects Ula'Ula, and Tapu Fini sees Poni. The four guardians rarely travel to other islands, or come together in any capacity. The only times they've been recorded doing so is when Alola is about to fall to chaos."  
  
She clicks on the screen. A painting stares back at them. Sherri doesn't recognize any of the shapes—no, one; Tapu Koko, in brilliant gold and crimson. "One of my researcher friends believes this scroll came from just after the Tohjans arrived—the people who lived together before Kanto and Johto fought to become their own separate regions. This supposedly depicts the clash against mysterious creatures said to come from another dimension. Today we call them Ultra Beasts."  
  
The opening in the sky features prominently in the center. Tapu Koko does battle with what looks like a silver beast, its thin arms poised to strike. The other corners are similarly adorned—red, blue, pink, for the other Tapu, and then other strange creatures. At the top and bottom are two other Pokemon, separated from the fighting: something that looks like a black Golbat, and a white Arcanine.   
  
True furrows her brow. "All of them are Ultra Beasts?"  
  
Kukui shakes his head, exiting the couch with a groan to stand at Professor Burnet's side. "Not these two. Solgaleo and Lunala," he says, pointing to the bat and the cat, "they're Alola's guardians of the sun and moon. Ancient stories go that when Solgaleo and Lunala were unhappy about what people and Pokemon were doing in Alola, yeah, they'd force the sun and moon to meet in the sky and open a portal from another dimension. Then the Ultra Beasts would come down and… well, you get the picture."  
  
"Sounds like Sinnoh's myths," True says.  
  
"Nothing so awful. Nothing's going to pull us down into darkness because it's bored." Kukui shrugs. "But that's when we began to come together, us people and Pokemon—so that if the time ever did come when the Tapu fell and needed our help, we'd be able to help 'em out."  
  
She's not a girl for myths and legends. True is—not even a slight squeeze of her hand and a sideways glance are enough to pull True away from this new story. So Sherri sighs, stands up a little straighter, and asks, "What does this have to do with the girl you found?"  
  
"Lillie—the girl, that's her name—she was found with a Pokemon Kukui and I have never seen before. That's not strange on its own, but I can't find anything in any of the regional Pokedexes that look anything like it. Lillie doesn't know much about it either. We've been looking everywhere to see if we can get a clue." She turns to Sherri and True. "Do you know if anything like this has ever happened in Kanto?"  
  
"Urban legends of kids turning into Kadabra, sure," Casey mutters. "But kids falling out of holes in the sky? Nah."  
  
"Weird," Haro says. "The Kadabra here just come up and spoon you."  
  
Kukui snickers; even Sherri can't fully hide her surprised chuckle. Burnet looks at Haro for a long moment, shakes her head, and sighs. "I've been studying the little guy as often as I can, but this isn't exactly my area of expertise and Lillie—"  
  
Burnet pauses, turning toward the door as a last, timid knock sounds. "Come in," Burnet says, and straightens. The door opens.  
  
Sherri's immediately reminded of the small dolls that Mrs. Kubuki sold in her toy shop in Saffron, with ceramic faces and clothing that always seemed to get dirty with just a look. Lillie is one come to life: her skirts blinding white and wrinkle-free, her chartreuse-green eyes wide and watery. Even the way she moves, hesitant as she takes the room in, seems… almost off. Mechanical.  
  
It's not enough to distract her from the tiny black-and-purple creature she's holding like it's a piece of herself she's trying to put back into place. It seems more mist than flesh until Lillie shifts it in her arms, when one maybe-paw snakes up to rest on her forearm. It seems oblivious to the room; Lillie, her eyes flickering back and forth, more than makes up for its inattention.  
  
"Good morning, Lillie," Burnet says, her voice gentle. Sherri recognizes the tone—she's heard True use it when calming her Sandshrew down. "These were the friends I mentioned last night. Remember?"  
  
"The professor," Lillie says, so quiet Sherri has to strain to hear. "And the…"  
  
"We're from Kanto," Sherri says. Take the reins, steer the conversation. "True," she says, gesturing to her side, "and Sherri."  
  
"Yes. Oh. A pleasure," Lillie says, bowing her head. "I heard voices."  
  
"I can talk pretty loud if you get me going," Kukui says. "You haven't eaten yet, right Lils—Lillie," he amends, and Sherri is only quick enough to see the last flicker of something like irritation in the set of Burnet's mouth. Lillie shakes her head. Kukui keeps going. "'Cause I can cook a mean scramble. You like eggs and peppers?"  
  
Lillie stares at him, soundless.   
  
"Uh, well I can also make pancakes, but those aren't quite as good, I can never get the ratio right—"  
  
"A scramble is fine," Lillie says, slightly recovered. Sherri knows the feeling. "Whatever's easiest."  
  
"Ah. Good," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay! You still have my cutting board, Sachi?"  
  
"In the same place you left it," Burnet says. "You and your…"  
  
"Nebby," Lillie says.  
  
Burnet smiles. "You and Nebby can stay here with True and Sherri, if you'd like. Or you can come with me. Your choice."  
  
"Can  _I_  go with Kukui?" Haro asks, tail thumping on the ground.  
  
Sherri nods, and he shuffles after the two professors. In the first few moments after they leave, no one makes so much as a peep or a sigh. Finally she shifts on the couch and says to Lillie, "Would you like to sit with us?"  
  
Lillie does, the picture of poise in Burnet's wicker arm chair—ankles crossed, back straight and stiff. It'd be perfect if her hands weren't clenched around themselves so tightly, if the crease of her furrowed brow wasn't so prominent. Sherri finds herself straightening her own posture in kind, her own eyes focused all on Lillie.   
  
"So what—"  
  
"The professor said you two came from Kanto," Lillie says. "It's very far away, isn't it?"  
  
"Took us a day on a fast plane to get here," Sherri says.  
  
"Is it true you have two different Charizard populations? The ones bred for the Charmander that accompany beginning trainers, and the wild ones that live in the mountains? Because I… oh." She straightens her already-smooth skirts and sighs. "I'm sorry, I ramble when I get… nervous," she finishes lamely, and dips her head.  
  
"I get nervous too sometimes," True says, leaning forward on the couch. "And when it gets really bad, I… I close my eyes. And breathe."  
  
"I already breathe," Lillie says slowly.  
  
"Yeah, but it's… like this," True says, and breathes in deep. Holds for four seconds. Releases over eight. It seems too rehearsed, without the wet cheeks and flurry of hitched breaths that normally come with her attacks. It's a demonstration but Casey has already lowered himself into her lap, his eyes fully on her. True goes through two cycles of this breathing before opening her eyes, smiling gently at Lillie. "It kind of… stops the world for a few minutes. Or, uh, hours. Depending on what you need. I usually do it on the floor, but it's… it's whatever works for you, really."  
  
"Oh." She looks down at Casey, who finally turns away from True to stare at Lillie silently. "I thought your… that it only battled. In your final match against that Vaporeon, it… is that not correct?"  
  
True's brow furrows. Sherri shifts, not too much to draw Lillie's eyes away from True's, but enough to press her knee against her girlfriend's. True takes a deep breath. "He did. But even before he battled, he was… he helps me." True lowers her gaze to the sleeping Pokemon in Lillie's arms. "Does your friend help you?"  
  
"I'm." Lillie's frown leads her head down. She hesitates. "I'm… trying to help it."  
  
"Scramble's ready to go!" Kukui shouts, his voice barreling into the room long before the body. If a "Kiss the Cook" apron only covers part of the torso, leaving the bare chest exposed, is it even an apron? "You kids having fun in here?"  
  
Fun might not be the word she'd use.  _Making progress,_  maybe. "Breakfast ready?"  
  
"Sure is! You all can just follow me."  
  
The outside patio is just a touch too small for five people and three Pokemon—at least, at first. As they eat in the rising sun it becomes clear that Kukui and Burnet, when they're smiling and laughing and pulling the other three into errant conversations, are just too large to be contained. They spend fifteen minutes genuinely talking about the great weather and another fifteen pointing out the Pokemon that fly past them—the little fuzzy Cutiefly (she resolves herself to seeing one up-close during this trip), and the Oricorio whose spectacular red-and-black plumage are native only to this island.  
  
"Nearly scared me to death when one of the Cutiefly flew into my office," Burnet laughs, sipping at her coconut water. "You never quite know they're there until they're spraying powder all over your research paper. Had to get myself checked out at the Pokemon Center."  
  
"There's one nearby?" True asks, turning to Lillie—to Nebby, still fast asleep in her arms. "Why isn't Nebby going to a Pokemon Ce—"  
  
"It can't," Lillie says. Funny, how even outside the air can escape the room. Lillie must notice, because she lifts her chin up when she addresses True. "It… I'm sorry. But I won't let it go."  
  
Alarm bells might as well start ringing in her head. There's something in True's eyes too, a flash of something Sherri only half-recognizes. It still lingers when True says, "I don't know how much I can help, but…"  
  
"Kanto Gym Leaders are trained in monitoring and treating Pokemon, aren't they? To make sure they're in good health."  
  
"Yes," True says slowly, "but—"  
  
"So you should be able to help Nebby."  
  
"I mean I'd have to… I'm not a Pokemon doctor—"  
  
"I can't take Nebby to the Pokemon Center. Professors Burnet and Kukui specialize in Interdimensional studies and Pokemon movesets, not general Pokemon health and wellness, but if you won't help Nebby and something goes wrong… I believe you're the best person to help. So please."  
  
There were days she missed her little shop in Vermilion, when her work days were broken up by ocean walks and seafood and panhandlers with her Pokemon in the alleyways. But never, not once, has she missed the customers like this, who come in on Tuesday afternoon with  _I need this Dewgong dress with a satin shawl done in red but not **too**  red because of my skin tone, you know how that is dear and can I have this done by Wednesday morning, I'm boarding the SS Anne_.   
  
And she knows, she  _knows_ , that dresses and Pokemon aren't the same thing. It doesn't stamp down the urge to take True by the hand and steer them out of this town, maybe off this island, because there's a working vacation and then there's answering a favor and then there's  _this_.   
  
She turns to Kukui, who doesn't meet her eyes. Finally True takes a deep breath and turns to her, brow quirked.  _If it's too far,_  she mouths, and pauses.  
  
She takes another look at Nebby, who twitches once in Lillie's arms. And underneath the table, because her most difficult customers always left with their Dewgong dresses stealing the spotlight away from Lance's glittering capes, Sherri squeezes True's hand.  
  
True squeezes back. "I can… I can look."  
  
Clean plates are shuffled into the kitchen, and they all file downstairs. There's a small station set up already, a padded bed with a beeping computer and wires she's seen in the medical dramas that Rothko devours on night shifts. Even when True squeezes her shoulder and takes a still-sleeping Nebby from Lillie's arms, even when Haro hesitates but follows just under True's feet, the girl stays behind, standing at the top of the stairs.  
  
There's no reason to ask why Lillie won't take Nebby to the Pokemon Center, no reason to be angry with this sudden turn of events. Instead she takes a deep breath herself, pictures her lungs swelling and shrinking in her chest with the exhale, and sighs. She turns to Lillie. "You're not going to make sure True takes care of Nebby properly?"  
  
Too sharp: Lillie's eyes go wide as she looks down, one hand moving to fidget with her skirts. She's waiting for it, waiting for  _something_ , but finally Lillie's hand falls limp just a touch away from her side. "I wouldn't want to get in the way," she finally says.  
  
There's the alarm bells again. Change tactics. "Nebby's lucky to have someone who would look out for them."  
  
"I don't know about lucky. Just, when W…" She stops. "A friend of mine, she said I could trust Burnet. I just… I'm trying."  
  
She's not quite sure what's going on with Lillie—she's not entirely sure that she wants to. But she knows one thing: she's a young girl who fell out of the sky yesterday with a potentially sick Pokemon, and she's scared. Sherri takes another deep breath, wishing for feathers or even Haro's slick skin between her fingers. Instead she settles for the soft pleats of her skirt.   
  
"You don't need to explain yourself. Not to me." Maybe to True, who can never say no to a Pokemon in need. Sherri turns around to see her adjusting equipment on Nebby, cooing something softly. Casey keeps glancing at Sherri from True's shoulder, his brow furrowed. She knows the look. "But you know," Sherri says, keeping an eye on the flashing green lines, "the more you can trust us, the more we can help you and your friend."  
  
There's a long, awkward silence before Lillie turns to her with her teeth scraping her bottom lip. It's the most human Sherri has seen her this entire morning. "I'm sorry, it was… I forgot your name."  
  
"Sherri. Frasier," she says, and extends a hand. Lillie answers with a pale one of her own, almost cotton soft. This girl has never known a day of manual labor. "And you're Lillie."  
  
"And I'm Lillie… Lillie," she decides.  
  
Sherri chuckles. "Well. Lovely to meet you, Lillie Lillie."  
  
And right there, soft and fleeting: a smile. "I meant to ask you, did you find that dress in Hau'oli? The Professor said something about you landing on Melemele from Kanto."  
  
"I actually made this," Sherri says. "I command clothes the way True commands Pokemon."  
  
"It's beautiful," Lillie marvels. "When did you…"  
  
Before she knows it, True is by their sides, sweat on her brow and Casey contemplative on her shoulder. "So I wasn't able to understand much of what was going on, but it looks like Nebby's just exhausted. Did something very stressful happen to them in the last few days?"  
  
Lillie is slow to answer. But she turns to Sherri and keeps her eyes there, until finally—just the slightest notion, easily missed with a blink—she nods.  
  
That Sandshrew-taming voice: "Let them rest, be gentle. I can't really stay to uh, to look them over on a permanent basis, but I gave Burnet some pointers. Just be gentle with Nebby, and love them. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." She swallows. "Can I…?"  
  
True gestures forward and Lillie takes off, kneeling by the little bed where Nebby rests.  
  
"Just exhaustion?" Sherri asks.  
  
True presses against her side, sneaking her fingers into Sherri's. "At least that I could tell. I told them I'm not qualified so to just… watch out if something happened."  
  
"Hopefully something doesn't, in case they need to get a hold of you."  
  
"There's a direct messaging system in the new Pokedex model I had Kukui update. So he, uh. Can."  
  
"You mean to tell me Kukui can get a hold of us any time he wants. Day or night."  
  
True's grin goes shy. "Only if I remember to look at it. And take it off Battle Mode. And..."  
  
"We better get out of here then, do some hardcore battling," Sherri says, and squeezes True's hand.  
  
"Kukui said something about some nice places off Route 4. Maybe we can get some training in there, a little lunch…"  
  
"Sherri promised we could go to the beach after this!" Haro says, his skirts swaying as he rises up on his back flippers. "I think I saw a restaurant on the water, I bet they'd serve some nice food."  
  
It's a start. Sherri lifts her brow, her smile turning sly. "Lunch on the water  _does_  sound very romantic..."  
  
True squeezes her hand. It's the only answer Sherri needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gigantic thanks to TheThirteenthHour for beta'ing this chapter!
> 
> For more information, extras, and memes, visit washinuzlockes.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter Eight

“Hey Ree?”  
  
“Yeah, True?”  
  
“I don't think I'll be able to eat any more pasta for a while.”  
  
“You mean eating half a pan of lasagna is a bad idea?”  
  
“You should know, you ate the other half.”  
  
Sherri knows; she has the taste of it on her tongue an hour after leaving the seaside restaurant, a small Mom-and-Pop shop that could have been plucked from east Vermilion. The water she’d bought from one of the roadside vendors isn't enough to wash away the memory of gooey cheese and perfectly spiced Tamato sauce, or the eggplants or the—  
  
“You're drooling,” Casey says, smirking just a little.   
  
She wipes the corner of her mouth and meets eyes with True, who grins.  
  
Heahea’s streets are crowded enough that True had agreed to keep the non-Casey team in their balls until they made it to Route Four. Signs guide their way to the Tide Song Hotel first, with its glittering buildings and the beautiful fountain catching rainbows in the early afternoon sunshine—it takes a local with dust on his pants and a wide brimmed hat to catch them looking around to point them in the right direction.   
  
“You’d think they would want to make it easier for people to find Paniola,” True says, readjusting her backpack straps.   
  
“Maybe they don't want to be found,” Casey says, jumping off True’s shoulder to lead the way.  
  
The road transitions effortlessly from pavement to pink and green mosaic to foot-flattened dirt; she takes sixteen pictures from different angles, using her foot for scale. She keeps the camera strapped onto her belt loop, where it whacks her hip with every step. It’s good, rhythmic. True allows her to set the pace, staying only steps behind her. Casey walks that fine line between them, the imperfect third point to their trio.  
  
“Hard to believe this is their winter,” Sherri murmurs, looking at the bright pink flowers reaching up to grab any sunlight they can from the shady trees. It’s a good ten degrees colder in this forest, but considering it’s almost December she’s still too warm. “You think it’s snowing back home yet?”  
  
“If not this week then definitely the next,” True says, rolling her shoulders. “Maybe it’ll be there when we go back.”  
  
“I feel like we should get pairs of those obnoxious sunglasses, with the palm trees on them.” Rothko wouldn’t appreciate the gag gift, but she has friends in the fashion district who might—Kuzi, for one, who spends her free time going back and forth between Fuchsia’s Safari Zone.  
  
True laughs. “Might be funny to see Jackson in them.”  
  
“You’d have to get them past his horns first,” Casey says.  
  
“They might fit you,” True teases, and Casey chuckles.  
  
It’s a good, leisurely walk—until they find the trainers just off the beaten path, with dirt on their cheeks and battle-fueled fire in their eyes. One of the boys, maybe fourteen if she had to put a number on him, sees Casey at their feet and then looks up to True and Sherri. And gasps. “You’re—aren’t you from Viridian?”  
  
She doubts the boys can hear True’s tiny sigh—she only does because they’re only inches apart, and even then she wonders if it’s a trick of the wind. “I’m Viridian’s Gym Leader, yes.”  
  
“Oh man. Okay,” he says, straightening up to show off his Celadon Eons jersey—the one with the brand-new logo, it’s practically dominated basketball coverage for months now. He turns to his friend—seven, with similar hair color and the same wide mouth; a sibling, maybe?—and grins. “Keep your eyes peeled, little bro”—vindication is sweeter than Combee honey—“’cause old Davie’s gonna show you how it’s done!”  
  
“Doesn’t she have a Charizard?” Little Bro asks.  
  
“I actually don’t have my team on me,” True says.  
  
“But that’s your Pikachu, right? The one who battled the Vaporeon?”  
  
“He doesn’t battle.”  
  
“Your belt though—”  
  
“Is my team,” Sherri says, stepping forward. “My belt snapped the other day and True’s hanging on to them for me. I know it won’t be as fun as battling one of the best gym leaders in Kanto,” and she pauses here, taking a deep breath, “but I could battle you, if you wanted.”  
  
Celadon Eons crosses his arms, fidgets with his dusty sneakers—and finally he nods. “Guess that could work. I have two Pokemon.”  
  
“We’ll do a one-on-one match,” True says, her voice only shaking at the edges of her words. “It’s a bit far from town and I want to make sure you both get home alright.”  
  
“You could use that one Pokemon we just caught,” Little Bro says, bouncing on his heels. “With the—“  
  
“I know. Okay,” the older boy says, and takes a few paces back.  
  
There are no cave walls, no lines in the dirt—just the five of them. She plucks the first ball off True’s belt and holds it tightly in her hand. Haro’s weight, she thinks, and smiles. The flash of light on the other side of their makeshift battlefield materializes into a creamy dog Pokemon she’s seen in a few Unovan fashion magazines. The Pokedex in True’s hands confirms her suspicions in a tinny voice:  _Lillipup, the Puppy Pokemon._  
  
She throws her own ball, waiting for Haro’s shining gray eyes and the round slip of his tail—and gets Wesley, looking back and forth with narrowed blue eyes.  
  
Well, she’s fucked. She knows it. True knows it. Even Casey knows it, standing at attention by True’s feet with his brow furrowed so strongly she almost loses his dark eyes. But she’s seen enough matches on TV to know that she has no other choice, especially for a one-on-one. So she grits her teeth, and straightens her posture, and tries to look Wesley dead in the eye. “You up for a fight?”  
  
Stupid question. Wesley nods anyway, turning his attention to the Lillipup in front of him.  
  
“Okay Hank, I’m your trainer and this is our first battle! Best defense is a good offense, or, that might not be how that saying goes… anyway, so we’re gonna have to start with—”  
  
“Take Down!” Little Bro shouts.  
  
Hank is enthusiastic, messy, barking even as he tucks his head in to ram into Wesley. This isn’t the Totem Raticate, and she’s not alone. Sherri steels herself. “Alright, Wes, Peck!”  
  
Wes dodges with plenty of time to spare; Hank falls into the dust with a yelp, trying to cradle his head with his tiny paws. It’d be adorable if Wesley wasn’t flying over him, a menacing shadow diving to jab his beak right into Hank’s thigh. He yowls, turning around to nurse the wound—she can’t see blood, but is that because it’s hidden with dust or because Wesley didn’t pierce too deeply? There’s no way of knowing by the glint in his eyes.  
  
He pumps his wings, blowing dust and dirt around the battlefield. She notices True’s eyes go wide before her face is obscured. Sherri coughs, holding her arm over her nose and mouth. She sees the boys do the same. The dust settles. Hank is trying to wipe the grit out of his eyes—or maybe the huge tufts of fur around his mouth.  
  
Wesley doesn't seem to care either way, flying circles in the sky like he’s… showing off. Sherri groans.   
  
They both miss Hank getting back up and trying to attack again. It's futile—Wesley is too high in the air, too fast and skinny to land a direct hit. It doesn't stop the Lillipup from jumping back up, his body glowing, only to crash and whine with not even a feather to claim as a spoil of battle.   
  
Celadon Eons hesitates, but shakes his head and recentets himself. “We’re down but not out yet, Hank! There’s still so many things we could do, like—uh—”  
  
Little Bro shouts over him: “Bite!”  
  
Hank struggles to get up, light flickering along his body. Not evolution, not during the middle of a battle. She takes another look at the scrapes and little craters on their makeshift battlefield, pauses. Take Down is the move where the attacker gets hurt too, right? She refuses to look at True for confirmation either way—she's stubborn, this is  _her_  battle, and Wesley—  
  
Is not winded. Almost perfectly healthy. And when he turns his head to meet hers there's a gleam in his eye that she recognizes: it’s a dead ringer for the one that's probably in hers.   
  
“Clever little sneak,” she mutters.   
  
Before Wesley can respond, Hank falls to the ground again, making no move to get back up again.   
  
“I think that’s a good place to stop,” True says. Her shoulders are squared and the crease in her brow is back, at odds with her satisfied smile. “The winner is Wesley!”  
  
The oldest boy recalls Hank with a sigh, his shoulders slumped. His brother sighs at his side. “I guess we need more training.”  
  
“You two were great,” True says, walking toward them with a familiar purple spray bottle in her hand. “I’d love to see you both at my gym back home when you all get stronger.”  
  
Celadon Eons nods, straightening his posture. “Yeah. Yeah! I’ll be so strong I’ll take out your Charizard in one hit! This loss will be avenged!”  
  
Sherri hides her laugh the best she can before turning to Wesley. She brushes the worst of the dust from her skirt and kneels down. “You did well. Feeling okay?”  
  
Wesley immediately picks his head up to look her square in the eye—and then, in her own voice, answers, “Okay?”  
  
She blinks. “Uh… excuse me?”  
  
“We had a Trumbeak do that to us at dinner the other day,” Little Bro says. “A local girl told us they can mimic any sound they hear, ‘cause of their beak or something. Yours is good.”  
  
“Yours is,” Wesley repeats.  
  
The boys pack up their stuff and make their way back down the trodden path to Heahea. True comes to her side, another Potion in her hand. “I’m proud of you both,” True says, quickly kissing Sherri’s cheek.  
  
She leans into the touch with a smile, fully aware of Wesley’s eyes on her. That scheming gleam is gone, replaced by something far more pointed. She’s not used to it; Preston’s eyes are sharp, calculating, but never… haughty, she thinks, is the right word for Wesley. And confused. It’s a bad combination.  
  
“Hey, can I have the treat bag?”  
  
True blinks but hands her the bag from the side backpack pocket. They’re small bits of kibble, designed to please all types of Pokemon. Sherri holds it in front of Wesley’s face as True moves behind him with the Potion. “You did good,” she says slowly, and offers the treat on her flattened palm.  
  
Wesley takes it, still eying her warily as he eats. Sherri chuckles. She’s done worse than communicate through bribes. She pulls out another, one for the battle and another for tolerating the Potion without stabbing her in the eye; Wesley is quicker to take the second, practically inhaling it. When he looks up for a third, Sherri shakes her head. The Trumbeak scoffs and flies up into a lower bough to preen.  
  
“Looks like we’ve got company,” Casey says, drawing Sherri’s eye.  
  
The small brown horse stares at them from the shadows, its hungry eyes on Sherri—no, at the food in her hand. She gives the treat to Wesley and pulls out a third, gesturing it toward the newcomer. “You hungry, little guy?” she asks.  
  
It trots forward, its huge nostrils quivering, until it’s right up against her. She lays the treat flat on her palm, the way she used to feed sugar to the Ponyta just outside Ecruteak, and takes a breath. The brown stranger takes it gently, pressing its bristly muzzle into her hand.  
  
 _Mudbray,_  the tinny Pokedex voice says.  _It has a stubborn, individualistic disposition. Eating dirt, making mud, and playing in the mire all form part of its daily routine._  
  
Wait. “Mud?”  
  
“Oh my god,” True says. “Come here, you want a pet…?”  
  
True already has a blue-and-white ball in her left hand as she scratches the Mudbray’s ears with her right. Bits of dried mud flake off with each scritch, and soon True’s fingernails are coated in the stuff. Sherri stands, brushing off dust from her skirts, and takes a few steps back. “Sure is cute,” she says.  
  
The Mudbray blinks long and slow at her, its tail swishing delightedly.   
  
“Oh, you’re just a sweetheart,” True croons, lowering herself into the dirt. “I could just scoop you up and take you home with me…”  
  
“Let’s get through Alola first,” Sherri says. “Do we even know if we can bring everyone back with us?”  
  
“Plenty of people moving between regions bring their Pokemon home with them,” True says, offering the Great Ball to the Mudbray. “Just a little bit of paperwork, agreements not to release them into the wild without Ranger approval… don’t want to wreck the local ecosystem, you know?”  
  
She doesn’t answer before the Mudbray presses the center of the ball and disappears in a flash of red light. The ball only rocks once in True’s hand before it clicks shut and the Pokedex in Sherri’s hand dings. “Think… uh, she... has a name already? She wasn’t much of a talker.”  
  
“We’ll figure something out. Ground-types are slow to open up to strangers, but I have a good feeling about her.” True stands, dusting the worst of the dirt off her pants, and grins. “She might let me pick one, like Clara did.”  
  
“And Wesley,” Sherri says, turning to the Trumbeak watching them both from the treetops.  
  
“It’s pretty common,” Casey says. “Especially for battling Pokemon.”  
  
“Did you pick your name?” Sherri asks.  
  
Casey turns his head. “It’s kind of a long story.”  
  
“We have time,” True says, offering her hand to Sherri.  
  
They spend it walking through the forest, Casey stopping and starting as other wild Pokemon and young trainers poke their heads up from the grass. (Apparently his brother had chosen his name when they’d still lived in Solaceon, before being brought over to Kanto.) Pedestrians pass them with maps and unscuffed hiking boots. She almost misses the sign that points them toward Paniola Town; half an hour later, when her feet are almost burning in her shoes, it pops out of the ground with a mighty wooden sign rising high above their heads.  
  
She’s… not quite sure how she feels about Paniola Town, to be honest.  
  
It’s a completely different aesthetic change from the bustling seaside cities they’d visited, even from sleepy Iki Town. The cities were bustling but Paniola is  _loud_ , with wooden everything and golden stars gleaming from huge hats that she’s only seen in the Sinnovan westerns. She’s half expecting a rugged actor to come strutting down the dirt path with his Rapidash and three bimbettes crowing from the water trough, leaning on their own Flaaffy. Instead there are Tauros and men whose beards dominate their faces not unlike the Lillipup she’d just battled.  
  
And there's flannel everywhere she looks, in every shade she can possibly think of; there’s probably more flannel in this town than the entire Kanto region. Even the little Pokemon Mart they stop into to get a town map has a little display of shirts, right next to ground- and normal-type treat bags and training toys bigger than her torso. The cashier greets them with an easy smile but no light in her eyes, tipping the edge of her wide-brimmed hat with a long dark finger. Sherri waves back, leaning into the racks of clothes, feeling the shirts in her hand. Some knot in her chest loosens.  
  
“This would look nice on you,” Sherri says, holding up a green-and-black flannel up to True. Her eye catches the tag and she laughs. “ _Viridian green._ ”  
  
“A sign,” True snickers, and puts it in their basket with the dusky purple flannel, two postcards, and a few new bags of treats.  
  
The shopkeeper— _Kona_ , if her name tag is anything to go by--rings them up with only a few suppressed yawns. “You all looking for the hostel?” she says. True only has to nod before Kona continues, “Down the main alleyway, take a right at Lani’s Malasadas. It’ll be the big blue building, can’t miss it.”  
  
“Uh, thank you?” True says, and swipes her card.  
  
Kona eyes them expectedly, glancing to the tip jar.  
  
True’s moment of hesitation is enough to spur Sherri into action; she slides a hundred-Poke note into the jar before grabbing their bags. “Appreciate it,” Sherri says, and leads the way out of the store.  
  
“Hopefully she gets to go home soon,” True says, readjusting her grip on the paper bag. “She seemed—”  
  
“Tired,” Sherri says. “Yeah.”  
  
They make it to the hostel room—more wood beams, framed photos of giant brown horses and Tauros in sepia tones, cream flannel sheets—when everything hits: sore calves, aching feet, dry mouth. Sherri falls into the bed with a sigh, too tired to grab her nightcap before burying her face in the pillows. Somewhere in the back of her head she hears the water hiss from the small shower next door, and then the other side of the bed dip beside her.  
  
"This was a mistake," Sherri grumbles.  
  
True stiffens beside her. "Coming to this hostel?"  
  
"Sitting down."  
  
True laughs, running her hand down Sherri's shoulder. "You can keep laying down, I can find something to bring in. Movie night?"  
  
"I love you," she whines.  
  
True kisses the side of her head softly, squeezing her shoulder. "You have an idea of what you want?"  
  
"Absolutely none whatsoever. Surprise me."  
  
True leaves her. Sherri dozes, closing her eyes to one sky and opening them to another.   
  
Gold has begun to streak the inside walls, a dark rusty red, lighting up the gold picture frames. The rooftops cast dark shadows on each other, on the busy dirt-paved streets below. There's no balcony to lean from but the small desk chair is a good enough perch. She opens the windows wide, letting in the dusty breeze, and breathes deeply. Gone now are the sterling beaches with the vibrant water; if it weren’t for the palm trees in the distance, she’d probably forget she was in Alola.  
  
There's a videophone on the counter, much newer than the old blocky one she has back home. She doesn't know what time it is in Kanto, but it can't be too far away. Her hand is on the glossy keyboard when the thought comes to her: how much does it cost to make a trans-regional call? The little placard tells her: two hundred Poke per minute.  
  
She sighs, turning her back to the phone and her head back to the street below.  
  
The camera's back in her hand. She takes as many pictures as she can stand: of the supporting beams, of the dusky light hitting the Pokemon Center roof, of the strange Pokemon walking in step with their trainers or nesting in the rafters. She doesn't have the Pokedex with her, but takes a picture. The  _click!_  of the camera wakes it—it stares at her with dark, beady eyes as it fluffs its feathers, clicking its huge beak… pouch… thing, at her.  
  
"I won't hurt you," she says lowly. She puts the camera down.  
  
She knows the name of this thing, it's Hoenn-native, Rothko had done a for-fun design of the gijinka play they'd done together two years ago— _Pelipper._  That's the name. She smiles and watches, breathing in deeply. It looks eyes with her for an uneasy moment—  
  
Trash cans rattle beneath them. The Pelipper takes flight. Sherri looks down.  
  
The first thing she thinks when she sees the kid in black and red is  _Rocket_ , before she remembers they aren't in Kanto. She recognizes the Pokemon beside him, who twists its head back and forth until it looks right up at her. Are Sneasel as rare in Alola as they are in Johto? The Pokemon mutters something under its breath, tugging the boy's pants leg. He looks up with a trash can still in his hands, and straightens it before turning to look right up at her.  
  
"Accident," he says.  
  
She narrows her eyes. "Happens to the best of us."  
  
He doesn't say anything but picks up one aged banana peel off the ground to throw it away. The boy straightens his hood over his head before walking down the alleyway with his Pokemon, leaving the other bits of garbage unattended.  
  
The door opens slowly behind her. Sherri turns to see True holding two bags of food in her arms, wearing her flannel. "Thought we could have some sandwiches since we had such a heavy lunch. Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Yeah," she says, standing up. The boy still haunts her. "Just took some pictures for later. Looks like you found something."  
  
“Yeah, the nurse at the Center recommended this sandwich shop. I thought it’d be nice to have something light…”  
  
Sherri hardly has to touch her box to catch a whiff of green peppers and barbecue sauce; she nearly drools. “You know me well.” She’s about to take a bite before she eyes the room. “Where’s the team?”  
  
True opens her own sandwich box and pulls out something more veggie and mayo than bread. “Down playing with some of the other Pokemon. Haro was really excited about a few Eevee and Courtney—”  
  
“The Mudbray?”  
  
True nods. “I hope it’s okay, she had her name and… well, I like to let them choose.”  
  
The way Wesley hadn’t. Sherri sighs. “You think he--Wesley,” she adds, as True raises her brow. “He hates me because I picked his name?”  
  
“He doesn’t hate you, he’s… proud. Stubborn.”  
  
“A little full of himself,” Sherri mutters.  
  
“Jackson had moments like that when he was a Charmeleon. But I worked with him, with some help from Britt and Clara, and he turned out just fine.”  
  
“Am I out of my league with him? Preston was never so…”  
  
True shifts, setting her sandwich box to the side. “He was never a battler. Wesley is. We just have to work with him more, you know? And just know that you don’t have to do this alone.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sherri says quietly, and smiles. “Thanks.”  
  
True hugs her, holds her for just a moment. “Sure you slept well? You seem a little far away.”  
  
“It’s…” Sherri glances back to the window, where the Pelipper had been. There’s no bird, no boy. “I’m good, just a little worn out from walking. Food will help.”  
  
“Food’ll help,” True repeats, and lets her go.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow washinuzlockes.tumblr.com for updates, extra art and fic, and other shenanigans!


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